Junior Year: New Beginnings
by Melissa630
Summary: Sixteen year-old Trixie Belden is a junior in high school and learns that in life there are always new friends, new mysteries, and-new beginnings. Modern
1. Chapter 1: A Surprise Offer

**_JUNIOR YEAR: NEW BEGINNINGS_**

**Summary:** As sixteen year-old Trixie Belden starts her junior year in high school, she learns that life is full of new beginnings…and of course, new mysteries.

**Disclaimer:** All character names and trademarks associated with the Trixie Belden series are the intellectual property of Golden Books, Random House's Children Books and Random House, Inc. The following story is a work of fan fiction intended solely as an intellectual exercise without profit motive. No infringement of copyright is intended or should be implied.

**Author's Note : **This story takes place in this decade. Unfortunately, I do not know enough about the forties and fifties to write realistically about those time periods. I also need to disclose my shipping preference**. **I have always been and always will be a great fan of the Jim-Trixie ship. (Honestly, I never even dreamed of a romance between Dan and Trixie until I read other fans's stories.) In my perfect world, Trixie and Jim will always get together in the end…but this isn't a perfect world, is it? And this story is just beginning…

_My sincerest and heartfelt thanks to fanpersonthingy! Thank you, thank you, thank you!_

_**Chapter One: A Surprise Offer**_

Peter Belden sat at a window table in the new café on Main Street. The owners were a young couple who had grown up in Sleepyside. After high school they had gone to culinary school in Atlanta. When they graduated, they had returned to their hometown to open their own business instead of seeking positions in upscale restaurants. The bank had given them the small business loan which had allowed them to renovate and open the café.

As the president of the bank, he felt that it was important to support the young couple's venture and, to be honest, the food was incredible. Today he had ordered a Monte Cristo sandwich which was served with homemade raspberry jam and potato crisps. The café also served two of his favorite drinks—flavored iced tea and gourmet coffee.

While he waited for his food to be served, he perused the local paper. The town council had unanimously appointed Richard Molinson as chief of police. His appointment was not unexpected. The former sergeant and detective was well-liked and respected by the community. In addition, he had a flawless record. It also didn't hurt that he was a local and people still remembered his days as point guard on Sleepyside Senior High School's basketball team.

Peter looked up as the bell on the café door rang. _Sp__eak of the devil,_ he thought when the police chief walked into the restaurant. Unlike his predecessor, he was not dressed in a suit. Instead, he wore the blues of a patrol officer. He greeted the other patrons warmly and then approached Peter's table.

Standing, Peter held out his hand and congratulated Molinson. When the man asked to join him, he nodded his assent and sat back down.

With a sigh, he asked, "What has Trixie done now, Chief?"

"Nothing that I know of. Of course, didn't she just get back from Idaho? Give her a few days," Molinson snorted. Then, watching Peter Belden intently, he continued, "Actually, I wanted to speak to you about Trixie."

A young waitress approached their table as the chief finished speaking and took his order. Peter waited patiently as she and the chief chatted. It was easy to see why so many people liked the law enforcement officer. He was warm, approachable and seemed genuinely interested in what everyone had to say. With a slight grin, he wondered if his daughter had ever seen this side of the man.

When the server left the table, Chief Molinson looked back at Peter, his expression serious.

"Chief Molinson," Peter began but stopped when the man held up his hand.

"First, I'd like for you to call me Rick," the chief stated. "I have a feeling that you and I are going to become well-acquainted over the next few years."

"If you'll call me Pete," he agreed and then, began again. "About Trixie…"

Once again, the law enforcement agent stopped him. "Please humor me and let speak first." He paused as the waitress came back and sat his coffee down in front of him. Patiently, he waited for her to refill Peter's cup and leave before he continued. "Your daughter is smart, savvy and has great instincts. She can analyze and put together evidence faster than most detectives on the police force."

The chief picked up his coffee and took a sip of it. It was hot and strong the way he liked it. "But she scares me to death. Trixie doesn't seem to consider the consequences of her actions, the danger that she puts herself and, sometimes, her friends in. I realize that she's just a young girl…" He took another drink before he continued, "…but she's a pretty, young girl whose investigations have pitted her against some of the most dangerous men and women that this town has ever seen."

The chief stopped again and stared off into space. His expression made Peter shift in discomfort. It was the look of a man remembering terrible things. With a shake of his head, the law enforcement officer cast aside the memories.

Looking back at Peter, Molinson continued in a rough but controlled tone. "I've seen things on this job. Things that are only hinted at on television and in the newspaper. Things that I wouldn't want other people to see. I don't want any of those things to happen to Trixie…"

Interrupting the chief, Peter stated brusquely, forcefully. "Nothing is going to happen to Trixie."

As soon as he said the words, Peter doubted them. Even when his children had been toddlers, he had worried more about his daughter than his sons. Trixie had always been a curious child, exuberant, fearless and full of joy. Recently, her frequent forays into the world of mysteries and crime constantly worried him, concern and anxiety about his daughter's safety always on his mind.

"That's what you and I need to make sure of," the law enforcement officer's gaze met his. "In the past, your sons and her friends have always been there for Trixie. That won't always be the case."

Peter Belden's expression was grave. "Do you think I don't know that? Do you think that Helen and I encourage her?" Frustrated, he ran a hand through his dark brown hair. "It's like she's a magnet for the mysterious."

"That's not it," Molinson smiled grimly and then he continued with reluctant admiration. "Trixie is more observant than any other teenager I've ever met. Hell, she's more observant than most adults I know. She has this uncanny ability to piece what she sees and hears together. Of course, I wouldn't tell her that and I wouldn't want you to either."

Peter nodded and then asked, "So what do we do?"

The other man picked up his cup and took a fortifying drink. As he carefully sat the coffee mug on the coaster, he looked at Peter. "I want her to come work for me."

* * *

Helen Belden stared at her husband in disbelief, her blue eyes wide. She had heard him wrong. He couldn't have said what she thought he had said. Glancing over at the bedroom window, she remembered that she had used ammonia and water to clean it today. Perhaps the chemicals had gone to her head…

"Could you repeat that, please?" she asked in a dubious tone.

"You heard me right," her husband said, his aggravation showing on his face. "I couldn't believe it either. The man is out of his mind. I can't believe that I was pleased when the town council hired him as chief of police."

Helen was silent. Although the idea of her daughter having access to so many "mysteries" seemed disastrous and incredibly dangerous, Trixie would also get to know the officers on the force. Hesitantly, she began, "Maybe it isn't such a bad idea…"

Peter echoed loudly, incredulously, as he paced back and forth across their bedroom floor. "Not a bad idea?" When Helen motioned to their bedroom door, he lowered his voice. "Trixie doesn't need any help finding trouble. She finds it well enough on her own."

"I thought you said that she wouldn't be working on any investigations," Helen said. "I thought you said that she would be cataloging old case files so that they can be transferred to the new archive facility."

"It's not a good idea," Peter stated firmly and then repeated himself, emphasizing each word. "Not. A. Good. Idea."

"But wouldn't she get to observe police investigative techniques? She'd also get to know the officers on the police force and perhaps when her next mystery comes along, she'd contact one of them instead of going off on her own. Besides, we did tell her that she could get a job."

"A job, darling. Not a one-way ticket to disaster." Finished pacing, he sat on the edge of their bed.

Helen sighed. "We haven't been able to stop her from getting involved in mysteries, Peter. You know that. However, we can make sure that she is better equipped to handle the situations she gets into."

Peter ignored her and asked thoughtfully, "Didn't Trixie say that Honey is going to work in the guidance counselors' office before and after school? And Diana—isn't she going to work at the Chamber of Commerce's information desk? Maybe I can get Trixie a job at the bank or at the library. The assistant librarian told me the other day that he thought Trixie was a well-mannered young lady…" He trailed off, thinking about the possibilities.

"Can you imagine Trixie working at the bank or the library?" Helen asked and then, she smiled slightly. "Besides, do you want the bank to be robbed? Or the library to burn down?"

"That isn't funny, Helen," Peter snapped angrily. Then, he saw the humor in the situation and looked up at her, his lips quirking slightly, "Not funny but both would be distinct possibilities if Trixie got a job at either place."

Helen sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. "Peter, you know we can't stop Trixie from getting involved in these things. We've tried. Since we can't stop her, maybe the best we can do is prepare her to deal with them."

"I just want her to be safe." His voice was gruff and mutinous, one hand rubbing his chest in a circular motion.

"I know, darling," She laid her head against his arm and he automatically put his arm around her shoulder. "Molinson's a good police officer. He's done this for a long time. He can teach her things that we can't. Things that can keep her safe when she's looking into one of her mysteries. Maybe he can get her in a self-defense class."

"Said he would," Peter mumbled against her soft hair.

"What?"

"He said that he'd make her take self-defense classes as a part of the job."

"You're just venting, aren't you?" Helen looked over at her husband thoughtfully. "You've already decided, haven't you? You're going to let her take the job."

"Yes," he admitted with a sigh. "But I don't have to like it."

* * *

Trixie rushed down the steps, wondering why her mother asked her to come downstairs before her father left for work. Since school hadn't started yet, she knew it wasn't her grades. With a frown, she wondered if it were about her chores. Although she complained loudly, she had dusted, vacuumed and washed the breakfast dishes every day this summer.

"Well, almost every day," she said to herself and then, admitted, "Okay, okay. At least three days a week but I washed the towels and sheets on Thursdays."

Sighing, she realized that she had no idea why her parents wanted to speak to her.

'At least Mart and Bobby aren't awake yet,' Trixie comforted herself, speaking out loud again.

Slowing down at the bottom of the steps, she entered the kitchen at a more decorous pace. Her mother and father were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. Their breakfast dishes were stacked neatly by the sink, waiting for her to rinse them and place them in the dish washer.

"Good morning, Moms. Good morning, Daddy," she said in a wary tone, her trepidation clearly displayed for her parents to see.

"Good morning, Trixie," her mother replied.

Her father smiled at her. "Morning, Princess. Please sit down."

Taking a deep breath, Trixie walked over to the kitchen table and took her usual seat. Her eyes were assessing as she looked at her parents. Usually when she was in trouble, her father's face was covered in a worried frown and her mother looked disappointed. Today, they both looked calm. Taking their expressions as a good sign, Trixie relaxed and picked up the pitcher of orange juice. She poured herself a glass and took a drink.

"Trixie, I had lunch with Rick Molinson yesterday," her father began. The frown was missing but his eyes were serious.

Slumping down in her chair, Trixie stifled a groan and immediately defended herself, "Daddy, I haven't done anything. We just got back from Uncle Andrew's. I haven't had time to get into trouble…"

Her parents looked at each other and started laughing.

"You haven't had time to get into trouble," Peter chuckled, repeating his daughter's words. "That's exactly what the chief said."

Trixie flushed, her face red with mortification. She sat her glass down and hid her face in her hands.

Helen Belden took pity on her daughter and continued, "Your father and I wanted to talk to you about getting a part-time job. We've decided that you can get a job on two conditions. First, you can't work more than twelve hours a week. Second, your grades cannot suffer. If you get anything less than a 'B', you will have to quit."

Groaning, Trixie asked, "A 'B'? Even in math?"

Peter Belden nodded. "I expect you to get a 'B' in Algebra II. If we need to hire a tutor for you, we will. However, you will be responsible for paying for half the cost."

Trixie nodded in agreement.

"Now, about the job..." her father began. "How would you feel about working at the bank? Jeannie Smith is going on maternity leave soon and we're going to need someone to clean the bank."

Her eyes widened with horror. "Clean? You want me to clean the bank?"

"Peter…" Helen said, narrowing her eyes at him for tormenting their daughter. "Your father is just joking, Trixie."

Laughing, Peter reached out ruffled his daughter's riotous curls. "Your mother is right. I think the library would be more your speed."

Compressing her lips, Trixie gazed steadily at her father. She loved the library and stopped by every week to check out the new mysteries and true crime stories; however, she knew she would hate working there.

"I'm still kidding, Trixie," he said and she relaxed. With a glance at his wife, he continued, "What about the police station? How would you feel about working there?"

Trixie snorted. "Sergeant Molinson—I mean, Chief Molinson—would never hire me."

"What if he would?" her mother asked.

Trixie looked from her mother to her father, her eyes beginning to sparkle with hope. "Are you serious? You think Molinson would hire me?"

"When I spoke with him yesterday, he told me that he was going to hire an intern to catalog the old files so that they could be transferred to the new archive facility. The job would be administrative in nature. You would not get to work on any investigations…"

"You're serious?" Trixie gasped, delight written across her face. "I get to work at the police station?"

Her parents glanced at each other and then, simultaneously, nodded at her.

Trixie sat for a moment in frozen silence, staring at her parents. Then, she jumped up and danced around the kitchen, chanting gleefully, "I get to work at the police station! I get to work at the police station!"


	2. Chapter 2: Sharing Good News

**_Chapter Two: Sharing Good News_**

Summer was waning and the two oldest members of the Bob Whites had already returned to college. It was the last weekend before school resumed at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School and the rest of the BWGs had agreed to meet and winterize their hangout. Trixie had arrived at the clubhouse first. Excited and energized by the news of her job, she had completed her chores at home and skipped down the path to the clubhouse to get to work. Grabbing a paint scraper, she began removing the chipped, cracked paint from the wooden window casings.

When Mart and Dan had arrived, she had eagerly informed them that she had incredible news to tell them when Diana and Honey got there. Smiling, she went back to work, pausing every once in a while to remind the boys that she had something thrilling to tell them. She enjoyed being able to tease them for a change.

"Come on, Trix," Dan pleaded, his brown eyes hypnotic in his handsome, smiling face. "Honey and Di won't mind if you tell us…"

"Try that look on one of your groupies, Mangan. It doesn't work on me," she chortled, shaking her head in refusal. Her usually-bouncy, blonde curls were limp from the sweltering heat and her face was shiny from perspiration. "I'm not telling until Honey and Di get here."

"Ignore her, Dan. Beatrix is determined to torment us with allusions to this purported news," Mart told his best friend as he climbed a ladder to inspect the roof. "Get up here and help me replace these shingles. They promise to leak if left to face winter's onslaught."

Shaking his head, Dan followed Mart up the ladder, complaining, "I don't know which is worse—Trixie tormenting me with her news or you torturing me with big words."

"Tormenting and torturing?" Mart sent his friend a sly look. "It appears that you have been cultivating your vocabulary as well."

Dan groaned and pulled off his faded t-shirt. He shook his head in mock horror, rolled the t-shirt into ball and tossed it at his friend. "Heaven help me. You're rubbing off on me, Mart."

Giggling at the handsome boy's words, Trixie went back to scraping the wooden casings. Time passed quickly and she soon finished stripping the clubhouse windows. When she was done, she went inside to get the paint and a paintbrush. While she was inside, she picked up a photo of all seven of the Bob Whites.

Her brother and Jim had returned to Columbia University two weeks ago. Three days later, she and Bobby had flown to Idaho to visit their Uncle Andrew. The ten-day trip had been full of fun and excitement—and memories. Trixie smiled and looked down at the bracelet on her wrist. Jim had given it to her on their way back from the Bob White's trip to Happy Valley.

Sighing, she admitted that this summer had not gone the way she had dreamed it would. When she turned sixteen, she had hoped that Jim would tell her how he felt about her…but he hadn't. She had spent the first part of the summer worried that he didn't return her feelings. Then, on the Fourth of July, as they watched the fireworks on Main Street, they had turned to each other to exclaim about the light display and froze. Jim had stared at her mouth for a long moment and leaned toward her, his breath caressing her lips. Then, Mart had jostled him and he had drawn back, turning awkwardly away from her. Shaking her head, Trixie realized that she was a pitiful anachronism—a sixteen year-old girl who had never been kissed.

She put the picture down and crossed the room. Opening the closet, she picked up a paint brush, a rag, and a can of paint and carried them outside. Just as she put the items down by one of the windows, she heard Honey and Diana's laughter. Looking up, she saw them walking down the path toward the clubhouse, arm-in-arm.

Carrying a large picnic basket on her free arm, Honey wore cut-off jeans and a yellow, cropped shirt that left her midriff bare. Her hair was arranged in a stylish French braid.

Diana was dressed in lavender shorts and a matching stripped tank top. Her shiny black hair was pulled back in a ponytail that accentuated her beautiful features. She was dragging a cooler with wheels behind her. When she saw Mart on the roof, she dropped Honey's arm, let go of the cooler and went to the ladder.

"Hey, Mart," she called, shading her violet eyes with one hand. "Honey and I brought a picnic lunch."

With a whoop, Mart climbed down the ladder and bounded toward the pretty brunette.

"Hey, what about me?" Dan complained as he stood up on the roof and stared down at Diana. He also wore cut-off jeans, his bare chest gleaming in the sunlight. Although many girls would have sighed at the sight, Di was unimpressed.

"What about you, Dan?" Diana asked with her hands on her hips.

Mart laughed as he retrieved the cooler from his pretty girlfriend. "Yeah. What about you, Mangan?"

"I can't believe I don't even get a 'Hi, Dan,'" he said, shaking his head mournfully.

"Don't dwell on it, buddy," Mart teased. "You're just not that impressive. Di has refined tastes and prefers more cerebral men."

"Sure," Trixie said. She kneeled down and wiped her brush on the rag. With an impish glance, she glanced over at her friends and winked at Diana before she continued facetiously, "Some women have no taste at all."

Dan hooted and climbed down the ladder. When he reached the ground, he walked over to Honey and took the picnic basket from her.

"Let me carry this for you," he told her, bowing gallantly. "You don't want the bottomless pit to eat it before the rest of us get our food."

Laughing, Honey handed it to Dan. "Why do you think I carried the food? You know how Di melts when Mart plies her with big words."

"Hey…" Diana and Mart complained at the same time.

"You, Madeleine Wheeler, are a woman of great intelligence," Dan told her solemnly as he crossed to the picnic table that he had built for the club the summer before.

Laughing, Honey opened the basket that Dan had sat on the bench of the table and pulled out some hand sanitizer. She handed it to Dan who immediately squirted some onto his hands and rubbed them briskly together. As Honey removed a bright tablecloth from the basket, Trixie finally finished cleaning her paint brush and rushed to her best friend's side.

"Honey, you'll never guess what happened…" she started to tell Honey but Dan's hand clamped over her mouth. He spun Trixie around and shook his head at her.

"No way. You made me wait. Now you have to wait, Trixie Belden. At least until we get the food on the table," Dan said with an expansive gesture toward the picnic basket.

Trixie sighed. After she helped spread out the tablecloth, she pulled out the food containers. Honey passed out sodas while Diana went inside the clubhouse to get paper plates, plastic ware, and napkins. Sipping their drinks, Dan and Mart lazily watched the girls work.

"You could help," Honey told Mart when he complained that he was going to die from hunger if he didn't eat soon.

With a smirk, he returned, "Squaw's work."

The Wheeler's cook had made fried chicken, potato salad, green beans and yeast rolls. She had also filled the cooler with bottles of water and cans of soda. There was also a thermos full of homemade lemonade and two plastic containers—one full of watermelon balls and one full of fresh, capped strawberries.

The girls worked together and soon everything was ready. When everyone was seated, Trixie said excitedly, "I've got the best news! You are not going to believe it when I tell you!"

"The best news, huh?" Dan interrupted. "Has the school board decided to give us an extra month off this summer?"

Mart laughed at his friend's guess. "That would be good news, Dan, but not the best in Trixie's mind. I bet the state assembly has outlawed high school math classes."

Trixie rolled her eyes at the boys. "No," she said impatiently, but then she paused and seemed to think about what they had said. "Those would be good though."

Her friends laughed.

"Absolutely," Diana agreed.

Honey nodded before she demanded, "Tell us, Trixie!"

"Moms and Dad said I could get a part-time job! A real part-time job!" Trixie told them. "Isn't that great? I am so thrilled. I could almost…"

"Die!" Laughing at Trixie's dramatics, the other four teenagers chimed in.

"Sometimes it seems like we share the same brain," Diana giggled.

"What a terrifying idea," Mart said in appalled voice, his eyes wide with mock horror as he stared at the violet-eyed girl.

Trixie rolled her eyes and ignored her brother. She was so excited that she practically bouncing up and down on the picnic bench. "They told me this morning before Dad went to work. He's already arranged it! At first, he told me I could clean the bank but…" Trixie trailed off as her brother and her friends went absolutely still and silent. Surprised, she looked around at their incredulous faces.

"You're excited about cleaning the bank?" Honey asked hesitantly, carefully enunciating each word.

Trixie grinned when she realized what they were thinking.

"No!" she said, chuckling at their dismay. "Dad was just kidding. He also asked me what I thought about working at the library. Can you imagine me cleaning the bank or working at the library?"

"No," Dan said flatly.

Honey and Di shook their heads vehemently.

"So, Beatrix, where has our paternal figure arranged for you to toil and labor?" Mart demanded.

"The police station!" Trixie answered.

Once again, silence descended and everyone went still. Suddenly, the others burst into laughter. Hearty guffaws erupted from Dan and Mart. Honey and Diana laughed so hard that tears ran down their faces. Trixie was disconcerted and a little hurt by their amusement until she realized that they didn't believe her.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Honey was the first to recover. "You're so funny, Trixie."

"That was a great joke," Di said.

"A real good one," Dan agreed.

"I'm serious. Chief Molinson needs an intern to organize and catalog closed case files so that they can be moved to the new archive facility. He asked Dad if I would be interested in the job." Trixie said earnestly.

Dan studied her for a moment and then, looked at Mart. "Wow! Molinson has only been chief for a week and he's already losing it."

"Some men just can't handle power," Mart replied, shaking his head with mock regret. When he looked over at his sister, he grinned and said, "You aren't serious, are you?"

"Come on, Mart," Trixie responded, her eyes serious. "Would I joke about this?"

For the third time in less than an hour, the group was silent.

"Wow," Honey said softly. Then, she jumped up, ran around the table and threw her arms around Trixie. "This is so great!"

"I'd say," Dan agreed, awed. "To tell the truth, Trix, I'm a little jealous."

Trixie sighed. "Well, I'm not going to be working on cases or anything. Dad said my job will be administrative in nature."

"True," Dan said. "But you'll learn how cases are documented and evidence is catalogued. Plus you'll meet all of the officers and get to see them in action. This is so cool."

Grinning, Trixie agreed. "It is cool."

"I am so happy for you," Diana gushed, excitement for her friend quivering in her voice.

When all of her friends had weighed in on her job, Trixie turned and looked at her brother. Like the others, he was grinning, his enthusiasm written across his face for everyone to see. Trixie smiled and stared into his round blue eyes. In their depths, she saw pride. She blushed, a warm feeling spreading through her.

The Bob Whites spent the next half hour eating the delicious food provided by the Wheeler's cook and discussing everything from the end of summer to their school schedules. Somehow Di managed to sneak several comments about the Junior Prom into the conversation. When they were finished eating, the girls repacked the cooler and the picnic basket. Mart and Dan took the picnic supplies into the gatehouse and tied the trash up in a bag to be discarded later. Soon everything was put away and the teenagers were eating the last of the fruit.

"Oh, it's hot," Di complained. Her skin was glistening with perspiration and her pony tail was limp.

"It's the hottest part of the day," Honey agreed, fanning herself with her hand. "The air seems dead. There's no breeze at all."

Mart looked at the girls speculatively. "We could go for a swim and come back when it cools down a bit."

"That's a brilliant idea," Diana said.

Dan shook his head in disagreement. He straightened his shoulders and used his most serious voice. "We need to get this done. As the oldest member of the Bob Whites present, I vote that we finish winterizing the clubhouse and then go for a swim in the lake."

Narrowing her blue eyes and titling her head in consideration, Trixie murmured, "I don't know if I like his tone of voice."

Honey agreed with a nod and added, "For a moment, I thought Jim or Brian had come back from college."

"He sounded rather bombastic," Mart declared eyeing his friend with mock aggravation.

"I don't know whether or not he sounded bombastic but he certainly sounded bossy," Di answered Mart.

Dan gave the rest of them a disdainful, condescending look. "Like I said, I am the oldest member of the Bob Whites here and it is obvious that I know best. Now get to work." He spun around and walked toward the ladder propped against the clubhouse.

Trixie stared balefully at Dan's back and then, with an evil glint in her eyes, she met her brother's gaze. He nodded and she looked at Di and Honey. They also nodded.

Suddenly, a strawberry hit Dan in the back of the head. Two more followed, hitting him in the shoulder and the small of his bank. He spun around, his eyes promising retribution, and was hit in the forehead with a watermelon ball. Slowly, he wiped the fruit from his face and glared at the other Bob Whites. When he took a step toward them, they broke and ran, laughing and hurling insults at him over their shoulders. With a grin, Dan gave chase, promising payback.


	3. Chapter 3: At the Library

_Fanpersonthingy, thanks for saving everyone who reads this story from sentence fragments, excessive commas, extra words and typographical errors! I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! _

_**Chapter Three: At The Library**_

The Sleepyside Municipal Library was housed in a large, brick building, just off Main Street. The basement contained a storage room, the administrative offices and what most residents referred to as the children's library. The first floor housed the lobby and the circulation desk as well as reference books and magazines. There was also a technology room with public-access computers and old fashioned equipment like microfiche readers and microfilm projectors. Small study booths and most of the library's fiction and non-fiction collection were on the second floor.

Conversation was frowned on in the library. The eighty-something year-old head librarian believed that silence was golden and even though she was seldom present, her staff continued to strictly enforce the maxim. The Bob Whites often joked that turning pages too loudly would get someone thrown out of the building.

Oddly, the library staff adored Trixie. Her love for mysteries and true crime stories coupled with her adventures had won them over—especially Mr. Crandall. He was the assistant librarian and ran the library. After he had heard about Trixie finding runaway Jim Frayne and unmasking the imposter posing as Diana Lynch's uncle, he had introduced her to her first true crime story—the kidnapping of the Lindberg baby. The two had become fast friends, reading and discussing the mysteries they both loved.

"Hello, Mr. Crandall," Trixie greeted the assistant librarian with a smile as she breezed up to the library circulation desk.

Thin and wiry, the assistant librarian was about five foot, five inches tall. His light blue eyes were a frosty and usually emotionless. It was hard to guess his age because his tanned skin was surprisingly unlined. His hair line was receding but he hid the hair loss by keeping his hair cut in a short buzz. The military-style hair cut gave him an authoritative look which allowed him to enforce library policies. When he heard Trixie's greeting, he looked up with a severe frown on his face. However, as soon as recognized her, his face relaxed into a warm, welcoming smile that few Sleepyside residents had ever seen. He closed the catalog that he was reading, stood up and walked over to the desk counter. "How are you, Trixie? Did you and your brother have a good time visiting your uncle in Idaho?"

Smiling, Trixie answered, "Oh, yes. Bobby and I had a great time with Uncle Andrew."

"Did you catch any poachers?"

"Not this time," she replied. "I was too busy keeping Bobby from harassing the sheep."

Looking at Trixie over the top of his glasses, the librarian raised his brows as he said, "That brother of yours is a handful but I'm sure that you can hold your own with him. After all, you are Sleepyside's most successful detective."

Blushing, Trixie bit her lip and mumbled. "I don't know about that."

"Well, I do," he said with an admiring smile. "Someday I'll be ordering books about local resident and famous detective Beatrix Belden."

"Gosh, I hope not," Trixie said with a mock frown. "At least the Beatrix Belden part."

The bespectacled man smiled indulgently and amended, "How about local resident and famous detective Trixie Belden? Is that better?"

"Much better," she smiled.

"Have you heard that the town is going to fill in the old wishing well?" Mr. Crandall inquired. He continued quietly, his voice melancholy. "When I heard the news, I wondered how you high school students felt about it. It's been a part of the school culture for years. I remember tossing a quarter in the well on the first day of my freshman year."

Her eyes wide with horror, Trixie asked, "Our wishing well? Not the one in town square?"

The Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School had a small, wishing well on the lawn in front of the school. On the first day of school, each freshman tossed a quarter into the fountain and made a wish about their high school experience. Trixie remembered polishing her quarter and wishing that she survive high school math. Honey-even after living in Sleepyside for more than a year-had been concerned that her parents would decide that the local high school would not provide an education appropriate for her. So her wish had been to attend all four years of high school with her friends. And Di's...well, Diana had wished that she would be the Freshman Princess of the Homecoming Queen. With a smile, Trixie realized that all three of their wishes had come true so far.

Since her freshman wish, Trixie had made several more wishes. She had wished for better grades, fun summer breaks and, of course, clues in whatever mystery she and the other Bob Whites were involved in at the time. She knew that her fellow students had used the fountain as much as she had. Last year, she had watched Mart stealthily approach the well and toss in some change before he asked Di to go to his Junior Prom. She had also been with Di and Jane Morgan on the day the cast of _Guys and Dolls _had been posted. In hopes of getting the female leads, the two girls had dumped the entire contents of their piggy banks into the well. Over the years, senior rings, school pins and other assorted jewelry had also been sacrificed in the hopes that Lady Luck or fate or fortune would grant the supplicant's inner-most desire or wish.

Trixie shook her head, chasing away her thoughts, and asked, "Why would they fill in the wishing well?"

"Apparently, the state safety inspector told Principal Stratton that it posed a safety hazard. He told the Superintendant of Schools and they are going to address the school board tonight."

"I can't believe it," Trixie said, shaking her head in dismay. For a moment, Trixie chewed on her bottom lip and then she wondered, "What will happen to all of our wishes? I threw a silver dollar my Uncle Andrew gave me into the well last week."

Mr. Crandall smiled at the teenager's concern. "Well, I don't think that fate can take back your wish. Especially if it's already been granted."

Wryly, with a whimsical smile, Trixie replied, "I'm not thinking about the ones that have been granted. I'm worried about the hundred or so that I'm still waiting on."

The librarian chuckled softly at Trixie's admission and informed her, "You are a delight, Miss Belden. An absolute delight."

Flushing at the compliment, Trixie inquired, "Are they just going to fill it in? Cover up all of the money and stuff?"

"Who knows what the school board will do? We'll have to wait and see..." Finished with their discussion about the well, Mr. Crandall moved on to another subject, "How are your classes?"

Trixie followed the abrupt change in conversation adeptly. Her expression chagrinned, she told him, "Not bad. I'm struggling with algebra but we both know that is nothing new."

"Ahh," he said in an understanding voice. "I was wondering why we hadn't seen you in a few weeks."

"Oh, that's not why I haven't stopped by. Haven't you heard the news?" she said in a hushed yet excited voice. "I'm working at the police station. Chief Molinson hired me to help organize and catalog the closed case files."

"That's wonderful," he replied, fully aware of Trixie's dream of becoming a detective and starting her own agency. "Your family must be very proud of you."

Trixie nodded. Truthfully, her parents, Mart and Bobby had all seemed excited for her. Brian, on the other hand, had been very unhappy. He-and Jim-had been less than thrilled and had even went as far as to question her parents' decision to let her work the station, suggesting that she was too impulsive and reckless to be around so many mysteries and crimes. Trixie shook off the despondency that the older Bob-Whites reactions still caused and focused on what Mr. Crandall was saying.

"Maybe you'll find a crime to solve."

Shrugging, she responded, "Well, I'm not helping investigate crimes but…" She paused, enthusiasm sparkling in her eyes, "…you never know when another mystery will come along."

"Speaking of mysteries, I've been holding that book you wanted. Why don't you have a seat? I'll pull it and bring it over to you."

"That's okay. I'll get it on the way out." Trixie looked around the library and then, turned back to Mr. Crandall. "I'm meeting Honey Wheeler and Diana Lynch here. Have they arrived yet?"

A look of censure crossed the man's face. His eyes hardened as he answered, "They came in about fifteen minutes ago. After I asked them to quiet down the second time, they went upstairs. I hope they're not disturbing patrons on the second floor."

Trixie smiled wryly. "I'm sure that they're being quiet but if they aren't, I'll take care of it."

"You do that," he said approvingly.

With a nod and a wave, Trixie turned and headed toward the stairs. When she reached the second floor, she saw Diana and Honey, huddled together in a cubicle as they looked at the latest _Teen Vogue_ magazine. Quietly, she crossed to her friends.

The other girls smiled when they saw her. Honey scooted over and allowed Trixie to share her seat.

"Hey, I heard you two have been causing trouble," Trixie said in an admonishing tone of voice.

Honey bit her lip as Diana rolled her eyes and giggled, "Honey was walking too loudly. Mr. Crandall told her that if she didn't quiet down, he'd have to ask her leave."

"You mean talking, don't you?" Trixie asked.

"No," Diana smiled. "I mean walking."

Arching a brow, Trixie asked, "You—Honey Wheeler—were walking too loudly? How do you do that?"

Of the three friends, Honey was the most graceful. All of the dance lessons and deportment classes she had attended at boarding school had given her a poise and refinement that the other two girls could not match.

"He said that I was intentionally letting my sandals click on the floor," she responded, delicately shrugging her shoulders.

"Sleepyside is the only library in the whole world with hardwood floors," Di said loyally. Then, she giggled again. "Mr. Crandall suggested that Honey wear appropriate footwear the next time she comes to the library."

"Appropriate footwear?" Trixie laughed quietly. "He must not be a fan of high fashion."

"I don't think Mr. Crandall is a fan of anything," Honey whispered quietly.

"Except Trixie," Diana chortled, earning her a glare from both of the other girls.

"You're going to get us kicked out, Di," Honey said, her golden eyes wide as she looked around like she was waiting for the library police to burst out from behind one of the bookshelves.

Trixie watched her friends with amusement. "Come on, guys," she laughed softly. "He's really not the bad once you get to know him.

Diana gave an unladylike snort. "Forget it. The only things he likes are true crime stories, mystery books…and you, Trix. You're like a character out of one of his books."

"I'm not like some character out of an old mystery book!" Trixie said indignantly.

"Maybe we should start calling you Nancy," Honey giggled at the horror on her best friend's face.

"That's a great idea, Honey!" Diana agreed enthusiastically. "We can start calling Jim 'Ned'!"

With a groan, Trixie covered her face with her hands. "You guys are awful. Just awful."

"Seriously, Trixie, I think Di's right. Mr. Crandall has read about your exploits in the _Sleepyside Times._ As far as he's concerned, you're a real life Lucy Radcliffe."

Trixie put her hands down, looked up at her friends and rolled her eyes. "Well, Lucy is better than Nancy Drew! But, come on, I know that I've gotten a lot of press with our mysteries but I've always said that solving them was a group effort made by all of the Bob Whites."

Smiling, Honey said soothingly. "We know, Trixie. You always share the lime light with the rest of us. I also think Mr. Crandall likes you because you share his love of unsolved mysteries. You know, the identity of Zodiac killer, the disappearance of the crew of the Mary Celeste, and the murder of the Black Dahlia."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Di said, shaking her silky, brown hair in confusion, before she added, "What I do know is that Mr. Crandall could be the president of the Trixie Belden fan club!"

Trixie rolled her eyes again and Honey giggled at their friend's pronouncement.

"I think Trixie wants someone else to be the president of her fan club," Honey said slyly.

"Someone like your brother?" Diana suggested in a hushed but wily tone.

Trixie's face turned a brilliant shade of red. Although both of her friends knew about her crush on Jim, Di's words still embarrassed her. Jim had often called her his 'special girl' but he had never done anything more. Secretly, Trixie hoped that he was waiting until she was older so the age difference wouldn't be such a big deal but lately, she had began to wonder if Jim had changed his mind. To add to her worries, since he had returned to school, he seemed distant.

With a frown, Trixie recalled their last telephone conversation. When she had called Jim earlier this week, Brian had answered the telephone. He had seemed reluctant to let her speak with Jim. After Jim had finally come to the phone, he had acted rushed, like he didn't have time to speak with her. His recent emails were also odd. When she sent him messages, he answered but his responses were abrupt and short. As she mulled it over, she realized that Jim hadn't initiated contact with her in several weeks.

Misery and confusion swamped her and she looked away from her friends. Taking a deep breath, she tried to change the subject. "This is the library. We're supposed to quiet."

Unable to see the painful emotions on Trixie's expressive face, Di teased, "Way to change the subject, Belden."

Trixie bit her bottom lip and looked back at Honey and Diana. With a stiff shrug, she said, "It's just that I…I don't know what Jim feels. Lately, when I call or email, he…he's different. Kind of distant."

"He's busy with college. Every time I call him he's talking about having to write a paper or read hundreds of pages," Honey reassured Trixie, putting her arm around her friend's shoulders and hugging her in an expression of comfort.

"Hey, you're Jim's special girl. He's just taking it slow because of the difference in your ages."

"Slow?" Diana hooted but became serious when she saw that Honey's words had not had the desired effect on Trixie. Her blonde-headed friend still looked miserable. "Don't worry, Trix. Honey's right. Jim Frayne adores you."

With a silent sigh, she hoped they were right. If they weren't, there was nothing she could do about it. Not with Jim in the city. Pushing her worry out of her mind, she looked at her friends and asked in a low voice, "Have you heard about the wishing well?"

They both shook their heads, their eyes wide, and as quietly as possible, Trixie told them the news.


	4. Chapter 4: Heartbreak

_Once again, sincere thanks to fanpersonthingy!_

_**Chapter Four: Heartbreak**_

Sixteen year-old Trixie Belden hurried down the street toward the police station. She only had fifteen minutes to get from school to work and she was running late. For whatever reason, Chief Molinson had decided to give her a job at the station, organizing and cataloging files so that they could be moved to the county's new storage facility.

Although her job was clerical in nature, Trixie loved it. She had gotten to know a lot of the officers and enjoyed observing the day-to-day workings of the police department. Not wanting to give the chief any reason to regret his decision to hire her, she quickened her steps.

"Hey, super sleuth, wait up!" a familiar voice called from behind her.

Inaudibly, Trixie groaned. It was Greg Alden, a senior who enjoyed picking on kids smaller and younger than he was. He was a bully and Trixie didn't like being around him. Deciding to pretend like she didn't hear him, she rushed down the street.

"Sherlock!" he shouted again. His voice was loud, carrying on the wind.

For a moment, she kept walking. However, she knew that he was persistent and would not give up. With her luck, he would follow her all the way to the station and make a scene in front of Chief Molinson.

Sighing, she turned around and snapped, "I'm going to be late for work, Alden. What do you want?"

"Work, huh? I don't know why Chief Molinson would give you a job. I guess your Daddy, the banker, had something to do with it," he growled, his face contorting into an ugly sneer.

Annoyed, Trixie fisted her hands. Truthfully, she didn't know why Molinson had offered her job but she knew her dad had not had anything to do with it. Determined not to let Greg get to her, she took a deep breath, relaxed her fingers and spun away from him. With a toss of her sandy blonde curls, Trixie continued walking.

"Aw, Belden, I'm sorry," Greg called out, jogging to catch up to her. "I got a mystery to solve and you're the only person who can help me figure it out."

Trixie guessed that he was playing some kind of mean game and was determined not to participate. She glanced over at him and with disdain and disbelief lacing her voice and arched a brow, "Really?"

"Come on, super sleuth. I know that I've given you and your friends some grief in the past but I really need your help," Greg said as he grabbed Trixie's arm and pulled her to a stop. "Everyone knows that you can't resist a good mystery. Just let me tell you about it and if you're interested, you can look into it."

"You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"Not until you listen to me," he said a slight smirk on his face.

With an annoyed sniff, Trixie grudgingly agreed, "You can tell me on the way."

The two started off again, walking briskly toward the town square on leaf-covered sidewalks.

"Well, I visit my dad in the city every other weekend," Greg said. There was an odd tone in his voice that made Trixie wary. "While I was there this weekend, I saw this guy I know. He's a real straight-up kind of dude. You know the type. Well, he was acting strange."

As Trixie listened, she felt a familiar shiver run down her back.

"Oh, yeah?" she asked guardedly when they stopped in front of the police station.

"Yeah," Greg continued, a gleeful malice starting to creep into his voice. "You see, he's had this thing with this girl in town for years. Everyone knows that she's crazy about him but there he is in the city—walking down the street, holding hands with this good-looking brunette."

Trixie knew. He didn't have to continue because she knew.

"It was Jim Frayne."

She stared at him, feeling like he had ripped open her chest and pulled out her heart. She felt an unfamiliar emptiness—aching and cold.

"Did you hear me?" Greg asked with an evil glint in his eyes. "It was Jim Frayne."

Laughing cruelly, he suggested, "Maybe we should call this the Mystery of the Cheating Boyfriend."

Trying to blink back tears, Trixie looked away, swallowing hard. It explained everything—the short texts, the abrupt emails and the unanswered phone calls. She didn't have to look at Greg to know that he was enjoying the pain that his words had caused her.

"You know, Belden. I don't think this is a mystery after all," he paused dramatically and then went in for the kill, "Who would want a dumpy, nosy blonde when he could have a beautiful, long-legged hottie?"

Trixie choked back a sob. She could not—she would not—cry in front of this jerk. Fortunately, fate was on her side.

"Is there a problem?"

Greg and Trixie turned toward the deep voice. Officer Wiley Jackson was a big man with a mop of white hair and a handsome face that had been leathered by years spent in the sun. Dressed in blues, he strode toward them, followed by a young auxiliary officer.

"Trixie? Are you okay?" Officer Jackson asked, glancing quickly at the young blonde's stricken face before giving the bully a thorough once-over.

When Trixie nodded abruptly, Alden laughed spitefully, "Later, Belden."

She stared after the departing boy with tear-filled eyes for several long moments. Then, the silence was broken.

"Do you want to be a detective?"

Nonplussed, she turned and stared at Officer Jackson. He was known throughout the station as a man of few words. During the two months she'd worked at the police department, he had barely said ten words to her. She couldn't believe that he wanted to discuss her career plans at the worst moment in her life.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked if you want to be a detective. People around here say that you're good at solving mysteries and that you want to be a detective. Is that true?"

Trixie slowly nodded, "More than anything."

"I'm going give you a piece of career advice," the older officer said, his voice gruff. He looked over at the young man who was with him and included him in the conversation, "You need to hear this, too, Calder. Both of you need to toughen up. You gotta have thick skin to deal with the low lives we face with everyday. You can't let them know when they get the best of you. It'll get you or someone else killed."

He gave Trixie and the young auxiliary officer with him a profound nod. Instinctively, they solemnly nodded back at him. Then, having seemingly expended his word quota for the day, Officer Jackson turned and opened the door for them. With a forced smile, Trixie slung her backpack on one shoulder and walked into the police department.

The next three hours passed slowly. Unlike other days, Trixie went straight to work, avoiding the teasing, bantering conversations that usually marked her arrival at the station. The police officers on duty observed the stricken girl with concern but kept their distance, acknowledging to each other that they would rather deal with hardened criminals than distraught, teenage girls.

Trixie tried to focus on the old files but Alden's words tormented her and-no matter how hard she tried-she couldn't stop the salty tears seeping from her eyes.

Finally, at six o'clock, she tidied her work space. With a deep sign, she slipped on her jacket and put her backpack on her shoulders. She walked quickly through the station and called out her good-byes, once again steering clear of any conversation. When she reached the door, she sighed with relief. Then, she heard his voice.

"Belden!" Chief Molinson called, his voice booming throughout the station.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw him looming in the doorway of his office, his face hard and impassive. Trixie thinned her lips and wondered what he wanted. She didn't think she could deal with a lecture right now. Grimly, she squared her shoulders, turned around and walked into the chief's office. When he nodded to a chair, she sat on the edge of the seat and stared at the badge on his uniform.

Chief Molinson studied her for a moment. Even with her eyes averted, he could see that they were bloodshot and swollen.

"All police department employees are required to take self defense classes. There's one at station on Wednesday night. You need to bring a change of clothes. Your school clothes will not be appropriate."

"Uh…yes…yes, sir," Trixie said, a sense of relief sweeping through her. When he didn't say anything else, she asked, "Is that all, sir?"

The chief picked up some papers and shuffled through them. "Jackson is a good officer. He knows what he's talking about."

His eyes met Trixie's.

"Should he give you any advice, you'd be wise to listen to him," he advised her. Then, he put the papers down, turned to his computer screen and dismissed her, "Your father is probably waiting for you."

When Trixie didn't move quickly enough for him, he motioned to the door and said brusquely, "Go on. Get out of here."

The blonde girl stood and said, "Goodnight, Chief."

With her head reeling from the day's events, Trixie straightened her shoulders and walked out of the station. She looked around for her dad's truck and when she didn't see it, she realized that he must be running late. Sighing, she sat down on the brick retaining wall that surrounded the flower gardens adorning the front of the building. The gardens were full of winter pansies and mums. In one corner, a fodder shock stood behind several bales of hay. The hay was covered with pumpkins, gourds and scarecrows, creating a festive fall scene.

The night air was crisp and cold. A soft breeze rustled the colored leaves that were clinging desperately to the trees. The night sky was full of glittering, gleaming stars. As Trixie looked toward the heavens, she wondered how the stars could shine so brightly when she hurt so badly.

She dashed away the tears that raced down her cheeks. Sniffing, she pulled her hat out of her coat pocket and placed it on her head. She shivered, not knowing if the cold she felt seeping into her bones was from the weather or the big hole in her heart.

The door to the station opened and Trixie quickly wiped her eyes again. Then, she looked toward the building to see who had just exited. It was Scott Calder, the young auxiliary officer who, along with Officer Jackson, had overheard Greg Alden's gleeful revelation about Jim. Nonchalantly, he walked over and sat down beside her.

"Hi," he greeted her softly. "The chief asked me to come out and wait with you."

Sniffing, Trixie looked at him and apologized, "I'm sorry. You can go back in. I'm all right."

"Are you kidding? I said the chief…you know, Chief Molinson…" The young man stressed the word chief each time he said it. "…told me to come out here. I can't go back in there if I want to keep my job." Officer Calder pulled a clean, white handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her with a sympathetic smile.

Trixie gratefully accepted the white piece of fabric. "It's stupid but…but I can't make myself stop. I feel so dumb." After she said the words, Trixie was horrified. She didn't know why she was confiding in a stranger.

"I know. I've had my heart broken a few times," the young man admitted, looking at her with a half grin. "You shouldn't feel stupid. It could be worse. I cried like a baby the first time a girl broke up with me, rolled around on the floor, kicking and screaming. It was ugly."

Trixie's sniff turned into a strangled laugh as she pictured the image his words created. "I don't believe that."

"Maybe not," he admitted. "But it hurt like hell…uh…heck for a while."

"How'd you make it stop?" she asked, wishing that there was something that she could do that would make the cold emptiness in her chest go away.

He snorted. "You can't make it stop but eventually, it just does." He paused and seemed to think about it for a moment. "I remember telling myself—over and over—that everything was okay. When my friends and family asked me how I was doing, I said and acted like I was okay. Eventually, I realized that I was okay."

"So much for that idea," Trixie sighed, her tone dejected. "I can't act."

"I don't know about that," he said. "I bet you can do anything you set your mind to. From what I've seen and heard, you're spirited, tough and indomitable. Everyone in that police station—except maybe the chief—thinks you walk on water. In fact, I bet Jackson would trade me for you any day."

"Not anymore," she replied despondently, thinking that she had destroyed any respect the officers had for her with her stupid tears.

"Trixie, those guys think the world of you," Scott Calder told her seriously. Leaning close, he whispered, "Alden's on everyone's list now and Canaan Davis downloaded Columbia University's vacation schedule. He's already distributed it and a description of Jim Frayne's car to everyone in traffic. That boy better hope he doesn't drive one mile per hour over the speed limit in this town."

Trixie gave an unladylike snort and her voice was bitter when she said, "Trust me. He won't."

Scott raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side in thoughtful contemplation. "He was a year behind me in school but from what I remember about him I bet you're right."

For a moment, the two sat on the wall in silence. Then, Trixie realized that she was no longer crying. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up. It worked. See no more tears."

"Hey, I like you and to be honest…" he started then, leaned close to her and admitted in a whisper, "Ernie Blevins told me that he'd give me twenty bucks if I'd get you to stop crying. You were killing him."

Trixie studied Scott's face to see if he was teasing her again. Even though he was grinning at her, he looked sincere. She bit her lip, shaking her head in disbelief as she asked, "Twenty bucks?"

"Twenty bucks," he said. Then, he stood and nodded toward the street. "That's your dad's truck, isn't it?"

Taking Trixie's hand, he pulled her to her feet and watched as she picked up her book bag. With a painful smile, she thanked him again and walked toward her dad's vehicle.


	5. Chapter 5: Emotional Distress

**Author's Note: **I posted the first four chapters quickly and close together in time. Unfortunately, I'm not going to be as prompt in posting future chapters. Summertime is crazy! However, I'm going to try to post every week. I hope that everyone who reads the story will enjoy it and to those of you who have left reviews, thanks!

This chapter contains quotations from the following books:

(1) Campbell, Julie. _Trixie Belden #1: The Secret of the Mansion_. Random House, Inc.: New York (1948).

(2) Campbell, Julie. _Trixie Belden #2: The Red Trailer Mystery_. Random House, Inc.: New York (1950).

(3), (4) Kenny, Kathryn. _Trixie Belden #9: The Happy Valley Mystery_. Random House, Inc.: New York (19_62)._

_Thanks again, fanpersonthingy! I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of your help!_

_**Chapter Five: Emotional Distress**_

When Peter Belden drove up in front of the police station, he saw Trixie talking to a police officer. With a frown, he studied the man pulling his daughter to her feet. He was young—probably about Brian's age. Although Peter wanted Trixie to make friends with the officers on the police force, he didn't want her to make friends with young, inexperienced officers who were only a few years her senior. She needed to get to know seasoned, _older_ officers who she could call the next time she was involved in a dangerous mystery.

As Trixie walked toward the truck, her features were shadowed by the lights coming from the station behind her. When she opened the passenger door of the truck, the door chimed and the interior light came on. In the bright glow, Peter noticed her red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked face.

Instantly, his attention was focused on his daughter. He hated to see Trixie cry. In fact, he didn't think there was anything he hated more than watching his daughter cry and even though she wasn't crying now, he knew that she had been.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice taking on a hard edge. He looked past her toward the station, his eyes following the young man as he walked back into the building. "Did he say something to you? Did he do something? Trixie, did he hurt you?"

Trixie sniffed and gave a strangled laugh. "No, Dad. I mean, yeah. Yeah, he did. I was upset and he made me feel better."

"Is Molinson giving you a hard time?" When she shook her blonde curls, he pressed her, "Is it the other officers? Are they being mean to you?"

"No!"

He didn't hear her reply as he put the truck into park and undid his seatbelt. The hard edge left his voice and outrage replaced it. "It's because they're jealous of you. They don't have the…"

"Dad!" Trixie said, raising her voice to get his attention. "Daddy, listen to me!" When he stopped and turned back to look at her, she insisted, "The other officers have been great." She sniffed and her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as remembered Scott telling her how Canaan Davis and Ernie Blevins had reacted to Greg Alden's ambush. "I hadn't realized how many friends that I've made here until tonight."

Realizing that his hands were fisted, Peter carefully relaxed his fingers. Slowly expelling the air from his lungs, he silently counted to ten. When he was calm, he looked at Trixie, his dark brown eyes meeting her bright blue ones. "Why have you been crying, sweet pea?"

Trixie looked away from her father and stared sightlessly out of the truck's windshield into the brisk fall evening. A lone tear slid down her face and she wiped her nose with the handkerchief that the young auxiliary officer had given her.

"I…" she started and then, paused to take a long shuddering breath. Finally, she shook her head. "I can't talk about it right now, Daddy. I just can't."

The tears that she had conquered a few moments ago were back and they streamed down her pale face. A silent sob shook her frame and she turned toward the door, trying to hide her misery from her father.

Peter watched his daughter helplessly. His fingers clenched the steering wheel in frustration and he wished that Helen were here. She would know what to say—what to do—to make Trixie feel better.

"Dad…do I have to eat dinner when we get home? I don't want Mart and Bobby to…" she trailed off.

Peter nodded. He knew that Trixie hated to cry in front of her brothers. It made her feel weak and out of control.

"I'll call your mother and tell her to put dinner on the table. When we get home, you can go straight to your room. I'll tell your brothers that you're not feeling well." Peter told his daughter softly as he pulled his cell phone out of its holder.

Trixie nodded, "I do feel sick. I don't think I could eat anything anyway."

As she put on her seatbelt, she listened to her father's voice. Its deep bass tones always comforted her. They were a constant in her life, soothing her when she was sad, calming her when she was afraid, even chastising her when she was disobedient. She sniffed again, dashing the tears that continued to flow down her cheeks.

Her dad had always loved and cherished her and she knew that—no matter what—he always would. But, somehow, tonight that wasn't enough to fill the gaping hole in her heart.

As she stared out the window, she heard her dad end the call and put his cell phone back in its dashboard holder. Then, his seatbelt clicked and he started the truck and pulled out onto the street.

The street lights blurred as they travelled toward home. They were both silent, Peter wondering about what had upset his daughter and Trixie thinking about Jim and the first time she had seen him.

On that fateful summer day, Trixie had convinced Honey to go into old Mr. Frayne's house to make sure all of the doors were locked. Once inside, they had discovered Jim sleeping on an old mattress in the middle of the debris-filled living room. He had a shotgun and when he woke up, he had quickly aimed it at them.

After a tense confrontation, Trixie and Honey had learned Jim's sad tale. Impulsively, both girls had offered to have their families' adopt him. He had laughed sarcastically and told them to stop kidding. When they had assured him that they were sincere, he had sobered.

"_Nobody's been nice to me since my mother died two years ago, and I guess I've forgotten how to act with decent people," he held out his right hand. "Shake," he said. "My name's Jim. What's yours?" _(1)

That moment had been the beginning of what Trixie had always thought of as something wonderful. Now, she wasn't sure.

Sniffing, Trixie wished to herself, _I wish Moms and Dad would have adopted him. There's no way Mart, Bobby or…Brian! _She sat up straight in the passenger seat of the truck and her father looked at her with concern. _Brian had to know. He knew and he had let her find out from an acquaintance—a mean acquaintance at that. _Shock and betrayal swamped as she wondered how many other people knew that Jim had a girlfriend. She looked at her father out of the corner of her eye and wondered, _Do Dad and Moms know? What about the Wheelers? Has Jim told them? Does Honey know?_

She couldn't stand not knowing the truth. Although a part of her was afraid to learn the answer, she had to ask. Nervously, she wet her lips. "Daddy? Do you and Moms know about Jim?"

Peter looked at his daughter quickly before turning his attention back the road. "Do we know what about Jim?"

Swallowing, Trixie responded, "That he has a girlfriend at college."

Trixie saw the shocked look on her father's face.

"What are you talking about, Trixie?"

"Greg Alden saw Jim holding hands with a girl in New York City last weekend," Trixie answered. She paused and blew her nose. The tears picked up steam, racing down her face again. "Do you…do you think that Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler…and Honey know?"

With his fingers flexing on the steering wheel, her father replied honestly, "Honey is your best friend. I think that, if she had known, she would have told you."

"Brian's my brother and he didn't tell me," she said bitterly.

Peter looked at Trixie with concern. He could see the anger and betrayal in her expression. Anxious, he pulled off the road. "Trixie…" he began but was cut off by his daughter's tear-soaked voice.

"I thought he liked me." Trixie said softly. Her voice was hoarse and tortured.

Peter knew that she was no longer talking about Brian. He turned toward Trixie and then closed his eyes against the hurt and devastation in his little girl's face. _Where is Helen when I need her?_

"I really thought he liked me, Daddy." The words tore at him and he opened his mouth, wanting to say something—anything—to end her pain.

"I'm sorry, sweet pea," Peter told Trixie honestly. His voice was soothing and calm and his eyes hid the burning anger growing deep inside of his soul.

She took a deep breath and nodded. Turning away from him again, she stared at the passenger side window. "We need to go. If we don't hurry, Mart and Bobby will be finished eating. I don't want them to see…" She broke off.

Peter put the truck back into drive and pulled back onto the road as Trixie went back to her memories. When old Mr. Frayne had died and his evil step-father arrived on the scene, Jim had run away and Trixie and Honey had tracked him down. As she wiped a tear from her face, she remembered the look on Jim's face when they had found him. A broad grin had spread over his freckled face.

"_Well, I never!" he shouted. "You two tracked me down in less than a week, you Sleuths, you!" _(2)

He had seemed so happy when they found him and even more so, when Matthew and Madeleine Wheeler had offered to adopt him. Shortly later, Mart and Brian had returned from summer camp and the Bob-Whites had been born. Together, they had been unstoppable, solving mysteries and helping people. Like Diana and Dan and her Uncle Andrew…

No matter what the future brought, Trixie would never forget the trip to her uncle's ranch in Idaho or what Jim had told her on the plane ride back to New York. She remembered the trip like it was yesterday. She and Jim had been sitting together on the plane from Des Moines to New York City. As the plane sped down the runway to take off, Jim had pulled a small package out of his pocket and had given it to her. When she had opened the box, she had seen the most beautiful, dainty silver identification bracelet nestled inside. It had Jim's name engraved on it.

"_You know what this means, don't you?" Jim asked._

"_Tell me," she answered._

"_It means that you're my special girl, Trixie," Jim said. "As if you didn't know that already."_ (3)

Her heart had swelled because she had believed it—until today. Maybe he had meant it then but he didn't mean it now. Some beautiful coed was his girl now.

With a sigh, Trixie remembered her and Jim's conversation in the Rivervale High School gymnasium. After watching a basketball game, the Bob-Whites had been invited to the high school dance. All of the Bob-Whites had been popular, dancing with many different people throughout the night. However, a glamorous girl named Dot had monopolized Jim's time. When he and Trixie finally had the chance to dance with each other, Trixie had been jealous and told him, _"If you like that glamour type best, you're just welcome to her. I mean it!"_

"_I like both kinds," Jim said. _

"_I can see that you do," Trixie said. Then she added wistfully, "Oh, Jim, I wish I'd been born beautiful."_

"_The other kind of girl," Jim went on, "didn't dress to impress me or any other boy. She never does. She's genuine and so comfortable to be around. She's my choice of the two. Right now her sandy curls need combing and she sure could use some lipstick!" _(4)

Trixie choked back a sob. Apparently, Jim's taste had changed. He had decided he liked the glamorous kind better than a "comfortable" girl like her. She wished that she had some kind of clue that his feelings had changed, that she hadn't been blind-sided. Then, it hit her. There had been clues.

When she had first started solving mysteries, Jim had been an eager co-conspirator who was as excited and thrilled by their adventures as she was. Slowly, his excitement had morphed into concern and worry. Then, the concern and worry had become anger and frustration at what he called her "naiveté" and "recklessness."

As for their relationship, he had never asked her to be his girlfriend, had never promised her anything. He hadn't kissed her or held her or told her that he loved her.

Trixie clenched her jaw in anger. _But, darn it, he called me his "special girl." If he had changed his mind, he should have told me. After everything we've been through together, I deserved that._

Suddenly, she realized that the truck was slowing. She looked out the window to discover that they were turning into their driveway. When her dad pulled up behind her mother's SUV crossover, she sighed and straightened her shoulders.

"May I really go straight to my room?" she asked uncomfortably, suddenly afraid that her father would change his mind and make her eat dinner with the family.

When her dad nodded, she flew out of the car and ran toward the house. Peter followed at a more sedate pace. He climbed the steps onto the porch and went through the door that Trixie had left standing open. Carefully, he closed it and paced toward the kitchen. Helen stood as he entered the kitchen. Mart and Bobby continued to shovel food into their mouths.

"Was that Trixie?" Helen asked anxiously.

He nodded and then, said, "She doesn't feel well. She's afraid that she'll get sick if she eats anything. You might want to go check on her." Turning his attention to his sons, he forced a smile and warned them, "There had better be enough food for your mother and me when we get back."

After Mart and Bobby grunted in acknowledgment, he left the kitchen and went up the stairs. When he reached the top, Helen was waiting for him.

"What's going on, Peter?" she asked anxiously.

His mouth twisted into an angry scowl before he answered her. "Some boy that Trixie goes to school with told her that he saw Jim Frayne with a girl in New York City."

Helen looked at her husband in astonishment. She wouldn't have been more surprised than if he had told her aliens had landed in Time Square. She had thought that Jim liked Trixie. In fact, when she and Peter had observed the lustful looks Jim had given Trixie last summer, they had struggled with the decision about letting Trixie date Jim. She couldn't believe that they had misread him.

"Maybe the boy isn't telling the truth…" she tried to come up with a reasonable explanation.

He cut her off, shaking his head at her. "Trixie is pretty sure he was telling the truth."

"Brian would have told us or at least, told Trixie," Helen said.

"That's what I thought," he replied and then, in a calm voice, he informed her that he intended to kill Jim Frayne. His calm, detached tone made her laugh softly and bite her bottom lip.

"Well, I'm going to call him and tell him exactly what I think of him," he said defensively when she chuckled.

"No, you're not," she told him in a soothing voice as she laid her hand on his arm. "You're going to change your suit and then go eat dinner. As soon as I find out what's going on, we'll discuss it and decide what to do to help Trixie deal with this situation." Then, after a moment, she added as an afterthought, "I guess we need to figure out what's going on with Brian, too."

Annoyed at his wife's calm reaction to the crisis, Peter narrowed his eyes and asked, "And Jim?"

They were at Trixie's door and both of them could hear the heart-rending sobs coming from inside her room.

"Jim is not our child. Matt and Madeleine can deal with him," she responded rationally but as she continued to listen to the mournful sounds coming from her daughter's room, her eyes flashed. "He is nothing to us. He can go hang."

He smiled as her maternal instincts overcame the serenity that she usually projected. Helen was the calm and collected one. She was the one who usually kept him from overreacting.

"You're beautiful when you're protecting your cubs," he whispered.

Narrowing her blue eyes at him, she replied, "Don't poke the bear, darling." Then, she opened the door and slipped inside Trixie's room.


	6. Chapter 6: Changes

_Thanks to fanpersonthingy for being a great beta reader!_

_**Chapter Six: Changes **_

Two weeks had passed since Trixie learned about Jim. It had been a difficult time for her but her parents had been great. They had assured her that she didn't have to tell anyone until Jim told her. They had also given her the space to deal with her emotions by herself. With a slight smile, Trixie knew that it had been hard for her dad. She realized that she got her desire to fix things for the people around her from him.

Trixie pushed her salad around her plate, artfully placing the vegetables into neat piles. She laid her fork down on the table and frowned at her food. No matter how carefully she arranged it, it wasn't appealing. She just wasn't hungry. Picking her fork back up once again, she redistributed the food on her plate so that it would look like she had taken more than three bites.

She pasted a smile on her face and turned her attention to the conversations at the table. Mart and Bobby were arguing about the New York Giants' chances of going to the play-offs while her parents discussed whether the church should start having two services—a traditional one and a contemporary one—on Sunday mornings. Silently, Trixie hoped so. Never having been a fan of organ music, she loved the contemporary songs the new worship leader had integrated into the service. Unfortunately, some of the older members of the congregation had complained to the pastor about the change.

"What do you think, sweet pea?" her father asked. "You like the new music. Would you be willing to go to an eight thirty service if it had contemporary worship music instead of traditional hymns?"

Both Mart and Bobby snickered when Peter Belden called Trixie 'sweet pea' and their parents frowned at them.

Picking up her glass, Trixie took a drink of water. When she set her glass down, she answered, "Sure. I love the new music from Casting Crowns, Jars of Clay and TobyMac."

"You're crazy," Bobby said, shaking his head in disbelief. "What's happened to you? Did aliens kidnap you and suck out your brain?"

"Bobby!" Helen said sharply. "I thought you liked the new music, too."

"I do, Moms, but there's no way I'm getting up that early," the youngest Belden said, blissfully unaware of the growing glower on his father's face. "I'd rather listen to the dumb organ music."

A fierce frown on his handsome face, Peter narrowed his eyes and focused on Bobby. "You'll get up when your mother or I tell you to get up."

Bobby stared mutinously at his plate and went back to shoveling green beans into his mouth. When he decided it was safe, he glared angrily at his sister.

"You know he's right about Trixie," Mart said thoughtfully, defending his younger brother. "A month ago, she would have died if you had suggested getting up early on Sunday."

After he finished speaking, everyone looked at Trixie. When she realized that she was the center of attention, Trixie shrugged, "People change." Then, she smiled sweetly at her father. "May I be excused?"

Peter and Helen Belden looked at the food remaining on their daughter's plate. When they exchanged worried glances, she felt guilty.

"Trixie, you didn't have a sandwich or any green beans and you only ate a few bites of that salad," Helen said anxiously. She had never had to force any of her children to eat. Until now, they had all had healthy appetites.

"I'm just not hungry, Moms," Trixie said, trying to reassure her mother. Wetting her lips nervously, she tried to explain, "I feel like I have all of this bottled-up energy inside me. I thought I'd go for a jog."

Since Alden had told her about Jim, Trixie had taken up running. When she had started, the two or three mile jogs had allowed her to get away from everyone and be alone with her thoughts. The solitary time had become a type of therapy, allowing her to process and think through recent events. It was also an outlet for her volatile emotions. On the days when she was furious and wanted to cry and scream, she ran hard, pushing herself to go faster and farther. When she was sad, her pace tended to be slow and steady and she covered the distance carefully, methodically.

"Why don't you use some of that bottled-up energy and do the dishes for me?" Bobby suggested through a mouthful of sandwich.

In a grim voice, Peter informed Bobby, "Your sister got up this morning, helped your mother make breakfast, did the dishes and went to work." His eyes mere slits, he asked, "What time did you finally get up? I don't remember seeing you before I left for work."

"I don't remember," the ten year-old mumbled and aimed another glare at his sister.

"Dad?" Trixie intervened, distracting her father from delivering a lecture about laziness. "May I go?"

With another glance at her plate, he inquired, "Are you sure you're finished?" When Trixie nodded, he relented and asked, "Which way are you going?"

"Down Glenn toward Old Telegraph," she replied as she jumped up and carried her dishes to the sink. She raked her salad into the compost bucket that her mother kept under the sink and put her dishes in the dishwasher.

"Do you want Mart to go with you?" Helen asked, her question drawing a choked gasp from her middle son.

Trixie laughed, "Gosh, no. If Mart went with me, we'd have to pack a cooler and stop every half-mile or so to keep him from starving to death." Pausing on her way out of the kitchen, she gave both of her parents a quick peck on the cheek. When her mother opened her mouth and started to say something, Trixie cut her off, "I promise I'll be careful."

The four people sitting at the table watched Trixie leave the kitchen in silence.

"She's losing weight."

"Peter," Helen warned softly, not wanting to draw attention to Trixie's plight until her daughter was ready to deal with the comments and questions. She pasted a smile on her face and looked around the table. "She's just going through normal teenage girl stuff."

Mart watched his parents exchange a look that he couldn't interpret. Looking thoughtfully at the kitchen door, he considered the changes that he had seen in his sister lately. She wasn't her effervescent self. In the past, she had hurried through her chores—often doing a haphazard job that got her in trouble—so that she could spend time with her friends. However, in the last couple of weeks, she had meticulously completed her work without complaint and instead of rushing off to the Manor House or the stables, she had started going off by herself. An mp3 player which she had purchased with her earnings from her job at the police station was her only companion.

He had always heard that teenage girls were moody and changed from day to day. However, his sister had never been a typical teenage girl. This new Trixie wasn't as fun as the old one. Instead of responding hotly to his jibes about her intelligence or her looks, she'd give him a blank stare. When he and Dan had flatly refused to go to the community center with her and help her start a strength-training regimen, she had shrugged her shoulders and walked away. She hadn't whined or erupted in outrage and tearful recriminations.

As he ate, he surreptitiously studied his parents. His mother was smiling, looking almost as calm and collected as usual but…there was worry in the depths of her blue eyes. His father, on the other hand, had a tightness around his eyes and mouth that signified helplessness and frustration. He had seen that look on his face before—usually when Trixie had placed herself in danger. Frightening possibilities raced through his mind. _Is Trixie in danger? Is something wrong with her? Something that his parents and Trixie weren't telling him?_

Suddenly, Mart wasn't hungry. He felt unsettled and off balance. With a forced smile, he looked at his mother. "Actually, Moms, I couldn't have gone with Trixie if I'd wanted to. Dan and I promised to help Regan exercise the horses this afternoon. I need to go change or I'll be late."

Pushing his chair back, he stood up and walked over to the sink. Following his sister's lead, he raked his scraps into the compost bucket and placed his dishes in the dishwasher. As he walked out of the kitchen, he heard Bobby burst out, "First, Trixie. Now, Mart. Did you see that? He didn't clean his plate. I tell you aliens have taken over the teenagers in this family."

As he started up the steps, he met Trixie. She was wearing yellow sweat pants and a matching yellow jacket over a white t-shirt. Her face was free of make-up and her blond curls were pulled away from her head with a white, stretchy headband. Instead of moving to one side of the stairway, he intentionally remained in her way, studying her.

"Trix…" he started slowly, his voice low and husky. "Are things okay?"

She looked at him, staring at him with that blank expression he realized that he was starting to hate. "Yeah, everything is okay." When he didn't move, she looked at him expectantly.

"Are you…" he paused, not wanting to put his fears into words. "You're not sick, are you?"

Eyes wide, she shook her head. "No, Mart. I'm fine." She hesitated before she slowly added, "Things are just…changing, you know?"

Mart's brow was still knitted with concern. Frowning, he tried to clarify her answer, "So…it's just girl stuff like Moms says?"

"Yeah." Nodding her head with relief, she smiled. It was a small smile—not one of the exuberant smiles that he was used to seeing on Trixie's face—but it was genuine. When he continued to look worried, she tried to joke, "Don't worry, Mart. I promise I'll be around for years for you to torment."

"No offense, Trix, but you're not much fun to tease anymore…" he complained, his mouth twisting in a grimace.

Trixie's eyes began to sparkle and her smile grew bigger as she leaned toward him and whispered in a solemn voice, "Next time you give me a hard time, I promise I'll jump up and down, yell at you and storm off in high dudgeon."

"High dudgeon?" he repeated the phrase and looked at her with mock horror. "Bobby is right. You are an alien pod person."

She laughed, "Nope. I just have this walking dictionary for a brother and…" Trixie paused and pretended to shudder with revulsion, "I think he's rubbing off on me. Now get out of my way so I can go run off all those calories I ate at lunch."

"What calories?" Mart asked under his breath but he moved to the side of the stairway. Watching her skip down the steps, he called out, "Trix?" When she looked over her shoulder at him, he asked, "Just cut out the _Stepford_ sister stuff, okay?"

"_Stepford_ sister?" she giggled and shook her head in delight at his description. "Sure, Mart. No more _Stepford _sister stuff." As she started for the front door, she asked "Will you tell Moms that I have my phone if she gets worried?"

"No problem," he said and turned and went upstairs.

* * *

Trixie concentrated on her breathing as she ran down the Old Telegraph Road. She inhaled deeply from her diaphragm as her feet hit the pavement. Left. Right. Left. Then, she exhaled. Right. Left.

When she had first started running a couple of weeks ago, she found that she was often out of breath. Trying to push past the feeling of breathlessness had made her feel nauseous and dizzy. In the past, she would have called Brian and asked him about it but she didn't feel comfortable asking her older brother for help right now. Instead, she had gone to Mr. Crandall, the assistant librarian at Sleepyside Municipal Library. He had been more than willing to assist her and had recommended several books on running. The books had been helpful, discussing everything from the proper attire to footfalls to breathing techniques. Although Trixie hadn't realized it, running was becoming less of a therapy for her broken heart and more of an enjoyable pastime.

Focusing on taking deeper, longer breaths through her mouth and nose, she concentrated on her footfalls. Left. Right. Left. Exhaling fully, she expelled as much air as she could to rid her body of carbon dioxide so she could take in more oxygen. Right. Left.

Trixie was so intent on breathing that she didn't notice the approaching car slowing down. When the steel blue Jaguar pulled up beside her, she looked over at it. Immediately, she recognized Matthew and Madeleine Wheeler. With an inward groan and outward smile, she stopped running, looked for approaching traffic and then, walked over to the driver's side as the window slid smoothly down.

"Hi, Mr. Wheeler. Hello, Mrs. Wheeler," Trixie said, greeting the pair as she stood on the double yellow line.

"Good afternoon, Trixie," Madeline Wheeler greeted Trixie in a cultured tone. Her voice was neither friendly nor hostile, causing the young girl to wonder—once again—how Mrs. Wheeler really felt about her. Sometimes, Trixie thought that Madeline Wheeler liked her; however, there were other times Trixie was sure that Jim and Honey's mother was appalled that her intelligent, refined children were friends with the Beldens—especially Trixie.

Matthew Wheeler, on the other hand, had always been forthright with Trixie. He had told her several times that he believed that she was a good influence on Honey, actually thanking her for helping Honey get over her fears and fit into normal teenage life. However, he was also quite candid about his dislike of Trixie involving Honey—and Jim—in dangerous situations.

"Running away from home?" Matt teased her.

Trixie smiled at his words and nodded. "I just couldn't take Mart and Bobby anymore."

Laughing heartily, he replied, "I understand that. I have to admit that your younger brother has developed into quite a…a rascal."

"Rascal, huh? Don't you think you're being a little harsh, Mr. Wheeler?" she asked facetiously.

"Trixie," Madeline said, her smooth brow wrinkled, as she interrupted her husband and the young girl's conversation, "What on earth are you doing out here by yourself? Are you in trouble? Is someone chasing you?" Suddenly, her eyes widened and she looked wildly around, "Is Honey with you?"

Trixie forced a chuckle. However, there was no amusement in her eyes. "No, Mrs. Wheeler, don't worry. Honey isn't with me and, as far as I know, there aren't any poachers or drug runners after me at the moment."

"Then what are you doing out here?" Matt asked with a concerned frown. "Is your car broken down?"

"No, no," the young blond reassured him. "Several weeks ago, I decided that I needed to exercise more so I've decided to take up long-distance running."

Matt nodded. "I used to run when I was in college. Believe it or not, I actually ran a couple of marathons before I became too busy to fit them into my schedule."

Trixie brushed the blonde tendrils that had escaped her headband out of her eyes and then, tilted her head to the side. Her eyes widened thoughtfully as she said, "I hadn't thought about running marathons. That might be fun."

"More fun and much safer than you and Honey trying to catch criminals," Madeline commented as she leaned across the console toward her husband so that she could look Trixie in the eyes. In a somewhat accusing voice, she asked, "Do you parents know that you're running this far from home?"

Nodding, Trixie pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and showed it to the adults. "Yes, ma'am. My phone has GPS and Moms and Dad have this feature on their phones which lets them see where I am at all times."

"Well, they can see where your phone is at all times," Madeline responded in a worried tone. "Sleepyside can be a dangerous place. You've proven that over and over again, Trixie. Why don't you let us drive you home?"

"For heaven's sake, leave the girl alone, Maddie," her husband admonished his wife in a jovial tone. "Trixie's a smart girl and she's taken reasonable safety precautions."

Just then, all three of them noticed a black and white police cruiser slowly approaching. Suddenly, a whistle blew and Trixie groaned silently. As the patrol car pulled up beside the Wheeler's jaguar, the window rolled down. The marked Dodge Charger was driven by Officer Wiley Jackson and Scott Calder sat in the passenger seat.

"Is there a problem, folks?" Officer Jackson asked, his manner serious.

"No, officer," Matt answered. "We saw Trixie running down the road and wanted to make sure she was okay."

Officer Jackson nodded and replied. "We appreciate your being a good citizen but you're blocking the lane of travel. You go on. I'll take care of Miss Belden." His tone was authoritative and Trixie could almost see Matt Wheeler's hackles rise. However, the millionaire businessman merely frowned at the order, nodded and pulled off. When the jaguar was gone, Wiley Jackson looked at Trixie. "You okay, Trixie?"

"I was just out for a run," Trixie responded.

"Frayne's parents weren't giving you a hard time?" he asked speculatively as he glanced in his rearview mirror at the car disappearing in the distance.

"No, sir," Trixie reassured them. "They're not just Jim's parents. They're also my best friend's parents and my next door neighbors."

Officer Jackson nodded and then, in a gruff voice meant to intimidate her, he ordered, "Then get out of the middle of the road. You don't want the chief to find out that you're setting a bad example for the public. Jaywalking, impeding the flow of traffic…."

After the scene at the police department with Greg Alden, Officer Jackson no longer scared her. In fact, he was now one of her favorite officers. She looked over his shoulder at Scott Calder and he rolled his eyes in an attempt to remind her that Jackson was all bluster. She smiled widely at him, "Hi, Scott."

The young man winked and responded, "Hi, Trix."

Jackson looked over at the young officer and advised him, "Don't encourage her. She's fearless enough as it is." Then, looking back at Trixie, he pulled a canister out of the pocket in his door and handed it to her. "Pepper spray." He gave her another stern look through narrowed eyes and warned, "Don't get it in your eyes."

Trixie grinned at him, saluted sharply and crossed to the side of the road. With a jaunty wave, she took off, running back down the road towards home with the pepper spray in one hand.


	7. Chapter 7: An Unexpected Discovery

**Author's Note:** Trixie isn't around at the beginning of this chapter to chasitize Mart and Dan about their language. Of course, the words they use are words that we hear every day on television; however, they aren't words that we read in Trixie canon.

_Thanks for all of your time and help, fanpersonthingy!_

_**Chapter Seven: An Unexpected Discovery**_

When Jim and Brian had left for school two months before, they had made Mart and Dan promise to visit them. The younger men had decided that Fall Break was the perfect time since they had two extra days off school and Mart's girlfriend, Diana Lynch, was in Virginia with her family. Wanting to surprise their older friends, Mart and Dan had kept their plans a secret sharing them only with Mart's parents, his girlfriend and Mr. Maypenny. Peter Belden had initially vetoed the trip but, in the end, he had reluctantly relented.

Both young men were excited. They missed their friends and were looking forward to spending the weekend in New York City, hanging out with Jim and Brian. They had driven to the closest train station and taken the train into the city. A short subway ride later, they were headed toward Jim and Brian's five story walk-up. With long strides, they crossed the distance quickly.

Suddenly, Mart froze. Slightly behind him, Dan shoved him in the shoulder and asked, "What's your problem, Belden?" Moving around his best friend, he threw Mart a disgruntled look and then, walked on ahead of him. He took a few steps before he saw what had stopped his friend.

Jim Frayne stood on the busy sidewalk across the street about a block away from them. He was with a tall, slender brunette. Talking animatedly, the girl stepped away from Jim. Her laughter carried on the wind. It was joyful, happy sound. Suddenly, Jim dove toward the girl and wrapped her in his arms. Bowing his head, he kissed her. Passionately.

"What the…?" Dan started in a surprised voice. Then, he cursed angrily, his diatribe surprising Mart and drawing both amused and cautious glances from passers-by. Suddenly, he fell silent and stared at Jim and the brunette. After a long moment, he moved furiously toward them.

Mart quickly caught up to him, grabbed his arm and hissed, "No."

"Let me go," he snarled, his face tight with rage. As Mart pulled him down the block away from Jim, Dan tried to resist but his friend's grasp was like a vice. With a fuming look over his shoulder, he snarled, "I'm going to kick his ass."

"No," Mart said again, his voice and expression were both flat.

When the other man's grasp eased, Dan shook his hand off his arm and faced him. "What the hell do you mean 'no'? Damn it, did you see…"

Like his friend, Mart was surprised and angry. In the second time in less than a month, he felt like the world had shifted and he was off balance. He knew that he—and Dan—needed to regain their equilibrium before they confronted Jim.

"We passed a deli about two blocks back. Let's go get something to eat and think this through," Mart suggested, turning around.

"You want to eat now?" Dan asked incredulously.

"I want to think," Mart snapped and then he took a deep breath. "Eating helps me think."

With a disbelieving shake of his black head, Dan began, "I can't believe…"

"Dan, I need to think," the blond-haired boy said quietly, steel in his voice.

Most of the time, Mart was the easy-going one of the two young men. He tended to be more laid-back where Dan's temperament was more mercurial. When his mother had died, Dan's life had become dismal and frightening. Although his uncle's intervention, Mr. Maypenny's willingness to give him a home and the Bob White's friendship had saved him from a miserable life on the streets, there were moments when darkness overtook him. Fortunately, Mart recognized his moods and was always there for him, his sharp wit and relaxed attitude usually breaking the past's stranglehold on Dan.

It was the hard determination in Mart's voice that broke through the haze of anger and confusion engulfing Dan. With a nod, he followed his friend down the street to the deli.

His eyes narrowed and jaw clinched, Mart walked slightly ahead of Dan, listening but not paying attention to his friend's furious muttering. The walk to the deli seemed to take forever as fragmented thoughts and memories swirled around in Mart's head.

As the young men entered the deli, the smile of sweet peppers, kosher dill pickles and fresh baked bread assaulted their senses. Mart ordered and then, waited as Dan reluctantly told the attendant what he wanted. Silently, they got their drinks from the cooler and trudged over to a table in the corner. There were four chairs and each chose a seat that put his back to a wall.

Mart unscrewed the lid on the bottle of soda he had purchased. He ripped the wrapper off of the straw he had picked up at the counter and slid it into the cool, dark liquid. He watched as Dan followed suit. Seated at a little table, the two exchanged no words. When the attendant called their names, they retrieved their food without comment and sat down to eat. Dan devoured his sandwich quickly but Mart lingered over his.

When Dan could no longer take the silence, he snapped, "Damn it, Mart. Is going to take you all day to eat that sub?" His lack of patience was evident in his hostile tone. Then, all of the anger, hostility and annoyance drained out of him. In a bleak voice, he asked, "What are we going to do? What are we going to tell Trixie?"

Mart Belden smiled grimly as he twirled a piece of straw wrapper in his fingers. At the moment, he didn't know which at the appreciated more—his friend's anger on Trixie's behalf or his friend's willingness to help him break the news to his sister.

"I don't know," Mart answered, shaking his head wearily. "I don't know, Dan."

It was the truth. He didn't know what to he was going to tell Trixie. A part of him wanted to ignore what he had seen—to pretend that it hadn't happened. Jim was his friend. What he did in the City was his business.

_It's not like Jim and Trixie are dating, _he told himself.

Sighing loudly, Mart continued his internal debate. _They aren't dating but Jim's actions over the years had made Trixie—and the rest of us—believe she's special to him. He should have told her when he started dating someone else. It's not my place or Dan's place to break the news to her. It's his._

"Nobody knows what we saw," he said aloud, drawing Dan's attention to him. At his dark-haired friend's incredulous look, he groaned, "Come on, Dan, it's not our place to tell Trixie that Jim has a girlfriend."

"You're not going to tell her?" Dan asked, incredulous. His voice was loud and several people in the deli glanced at them with wary speculation. "What kind of lousy, piece of…"

Mart cut him off. "Be quiet. Damn it, of course I'm going to tell her." When the words were out, the young man threw down the remainder of his half-eaten sandwich. With a scowl, he wrapped it up, stood and crossed the room to the trash can to throw it out.

Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to tell her because she was his sister and even though he would never admit out loud, he was closer to her than to anyone else in the world. If she had to hear it from anyone other than Jim, she would hear it from him.

With a scowl on his face, he strode out of the deli and then, turned and waited for Dan to catch up with him.

"Do you still want to go to Jim and Brian's?" he asked his friend.

Dan clenched his fists. "What I want to do is kick Jim's…"

Mart cut him off. "There's not going to be any ass-kicking—at least not today. I'm going home."

Looking longingly down the block toward Jim and Brian's apartment, Dan clenched his teeth. He wanted to hurt Jim because he was messing everything up. _Damn it. This wasn't the way things are supposed to be. We were always going to be together. Mart and Di. Jim and Trixie. Maybe even Brian and Honey someday. _His friends were one of the few constants in his life—one of the few things that he counted on never changing.

"Sure," Dan snorted angrily. "Let's go home." He walked ahead of Mart and muttered, "While it's still there."

Mart frowned at his friend's last words. In the back of his mind, he recognized that they were important but he wasn't thinking clearly. He would deal with Dan's problems after he dealt with Trixie's.

By mid afternoon, the young men were back in Sleepyside. When Dan pulled his old pick-up truck next to Helen Belden's crossover SUV, both young men felt better. There was something about Crabapple Farm—something comfortable, something...safe.

"It's still here," Mart said, remembering his friend's odd comment. He watched Dan turn off the ignition and withdraw the keys from the switch. "What did you mean by that?"

Dan shook his head but didn't meet Mart's eyes. "Nothing. I was just angry. I don't really know what I meant. I still don't know…"

After a moment, they climbed out of the old truck. As they stalked toward the front porch of the old farmhouse, they surveyed their surroundings. It was the same—the rocking chairs, the swing and the hanging baskets full of flowers. Sitting down in one of the rockers, Dan threw his right leg over the arm of the chair as Mart collapsed on the swing.

"What do we do now, Mart?"

"We tell Trixie," his friend replied, dread in his voice. "She's been so weird lately—going off by herself, listening to crazy music on that mp3 player and running all the time." In a stilted voice, Mart described the other changes he had seen in his sister lately. Shrugging, he continued, "Moms said it's just normal girl stuff but I don't know. I'm worried about her. Last week, I thought that she was really sick or something."

Dan frowned. When he thought about it, Trixie had been acting strangely lately. She wasn't the only one of the Bob-Whites who recognized a mystery. With a smile, Dan thought as his own instincts kicked in, _She just recognizes them sooner than the rest of us_. He began to catalog her odd behavior. One, she was spending a lot of time by herself. Two, her habits had changed. Getting up early and doing chores without being told definitely weren't normal behavior for Trixie. Three, her appetite had changed and she was exercising zealously. Four, she was studying and visiting the library more often. Maybe…"Mart, do you think she knows?"

Just then, Trixie rounded the corner of the house. She was dressed in baggy, blue sweatpants and a gray henley. Her blonde curls were pulled back with a gray headband. She had her mp3 player in one hand and was holding bright, blue ear buds in the other.

"Does she know what?" she asked the two young men with a curious glance.

Dan opened and closed his mouth while Mart stared at his sister. She sat down on the steps and turned to face them. When neither of them answered her, she asked, "What's wrong with you two? Where have you been all day?"

"We…we went into the…" Dan started and then he trailed off. If both boys hadn't been watching Trixie closely, they wouldn't have seen her stiffen. Although the telltale action confirmed the suspicion that Dan had just voiced, they were still shocked.

"You know," Mart said, expelling a long, hard breath, before he demanded. "How the hell do you know?"

"How the heck do you know?" Trixie corrected, frowning at her brother's choice of words. With a grimace, she met Mart's gaze and then Dan's. "So you went into the city to see Jim and Brian?"

They nodded.

Trixie's mouth twisted and she gave an unladylike snort. She carefully folded up the wires on the ear buds and put them and the mp3 player in one of the pockets of her sweats. "I forgot about the weekend you've been planning. I guess you decided this weekend was it?"

Neither one responded. They kept staring at her, waiting for her to ask them what they were talking about—to deny that she knew anything.

"Did he tell you?" Her blue eyes were wide but no emotion showed in them or in her voice.

"We didn't talk to Jim," Mart said. He still wasn't sure he and Trixie were talking about the same thing. "Or Brian."

"So how'd you find out?" she asked casually, meeting Mart's eyes.

Mart got up and walked to the steps. Then he sat down on the steps, his body angled toward his sister's smaller frame. "Find out what, Trix? What do you think that we found out?"

"That Jim has a girlfriend." She said the words coolly, almost apathetically.

"How long have you known?" Mart asked, reaching out and taking one of her hands. For some reason, he needed to touch her—to offer her comfort, to let her know that he knew how upset she was. Her blue eyes were flat as she pulled her hand away from his and folded it and her other one in her lap.

"About three weeks. Greg Alden got a real kick out of telling me about Jim and his new girlfriend." Trixie said, hunching her shoulders as if to ward off the cold. It was the only outward sign of discomfort that she displayed. "Did Jim tell you?"

Dan stood up and walked over to the steps. Sitting down on the top step between the siblings, he answered, "We had no idea. We planned on surprising them—Jim and Brian, that is." He laughed bitterly and continued, "Instead, we were the ones who were surprised. We saw them—Jim and the girl—in front of the apartment building. We just turned around and came home."

Trixie nodded. "I'm sorry that your weekend plans were ruined."

"It's not your fault," Mart assured her before he asked, "Why didn't you tell us, Trixie?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she answered truthfully, "What is there to tell? It's not like Jim and I were a couple. He never asked me out or anything like that. Besides I think that Jim should tell me before I start telling everyone else."

Both young men agreed but Dan exclaimed, "When he gets home, I'm going to kick his ass, Trix. I'll beat some sense into him." He put his arm around her shoulders in a reassuring gesture, "Don't worry about it. Everything will be back to normal in no time."

Until now, Trixie had not thought about how the situation would affect the other Bob-Whites. Oh, she had thought that they would pity her but she hadn't thought about how they would feel. Looking at Dan and listening to his sincere promise to get things back to normal made her realize how insecure this turn of events made him feel. He hadn't had very much stability in his life and there had been very few people that he could depend on.

She smiled at him and gently admonished him for his word choice, "Butt, Dan. Kick his butt." Then she moved on, "You can't kick his butt. He's your friend and he didn't do anything wrong."

Dan shook his head and corrected her, "He hurt you."

"That's why if anyone kicks Jim's butt," Trixie began, stressing the word 'butt' as she gave the handsome, black-haired boy a stern look. "It should be me."

"Is that why you're running and exercising all of the time? Are you in training to take down Jim Frayne?" Mart asked.

Forcing a laugh, Trixie replied, "No, I don't plan on beating up Jim. When I took the self-defense class at the police station, I realized that I need to be in better shape."

"Are you sure that's it?"

"Yes, that's it." In a calm voice, she said reassuringly. "I'm fine."

"Have you talked with Honey about it?" Dan asked. "What did she say?"

Trixie shook her head. "I haven't told anyone anything—except Dad. He picked me up from work the night I found out."

"Alden told you before you went to work?" Mart asked with outrage as Dan made a disgusted sound.

"Can I kick his a…butt?"

Smiling, Trixie shook her head. A blonde tendril escaped the headband and danced around her forehead. "I'm afraid that I can't approve of any butt kicking, Mangan."

"So Honey doesn't know?" Mart went back to the subject at hand.

"I don't know if she knows," Trixie replied, her voice once again emotionless.

"Honey would have told you," Dan said thoughtfully. Mart nodded in agreement. However, both young men noticed that Trixie's jaw was set.

"Maybe."

Mart and Dan exchanged a worried glance. "Come on, Trix, she's your best friend. She can't change her clothes without telling you." Mart said with a forced laugh.

"We've both been busy lately—with school and our jobs. Plus Honey has been helping her mom plan the Christmas ball for the police and fire departments. We haven't had much time to talk lately," she answered truthfully. Then, her tone flattened again, "Besides Brian didn't tell me."

Trixie stood up and pulled the mp3 player and the bright blue headphones out of her pocket. Turning, she faced Mart and Dan. "Look, guys, I'm okay. This has to be between me and Jim. The rest of you shouldn't be involved. It wouldn't be right. Now, I'm going to run down to Mr. Lytell's store and get a strawberry pop. Do either of you want to come?"

Shaking their heads, they refused and watched Trixie run off into the distance. The silence that had plagued them all day settled again as each of them considered the girl's actions and words. Regardless of what Trixie said, with secrets, shades of betrayal and seas of distance growing between them, this was going to affect all of the Bob-Whites.


	8. Chapter 8: Reckoning

___Thanks to fanpersonthingy!_

_**Chapter Eight: Reckoning**_

Although the fall color had peaked and the leaves that clung to the trees were a nondescript brown, it was a beautiful day—unseasonably warm but lovely nonetheless. The sky was a brilliant blue, free from clouds. As Trixie walked toward the clubhouse, she knew that the day of reckoning had arrived—the day Jim would tell her that he was seeing someone else, that he didn't care about her the way she had always hoped he would.

Trixie admitted to herself that she wasn't over Jim and wondered if she ever would be. She no longer cried herself to sleep over what could have been—what should have been—but her chest still felt heavy when she thought of him with someone else. Resolutely, she promised herself that she would not break down in tears when he told her. Jim had always been one of her closest friends and she hoped someday that they would be friends again.

As she continued slowly down the path to the clubhouse, she wondered what the future would bring for her and the rest of the Bob-Whites. Sighing deeply, she knew that things would never be the same. All of her friends were leaving childhood behind and as they stepped into adulthood, they would leave other things behind. Maybe they would even leave each other behind.

Trixie stopped dead in her tracks as realization struck her. In the past, thoughts of the future had both excited and frightened her but today, she was surprised that she no longer feared the day that she would leave Sleepyside to make her place in the world. She no longer felt tied to Sleepyside. She could do anything—be anyone—she wanted to be. The future and its promise were wide open.

When she entered the clubhouse, it seemed dark and gloomy compared to the brilliance of the sunshine. When her eyes adjusted, she saw Jim. He was holding the same picture that she had picked up months ago. Silently, she watched him. Finally, he sighed and placed the framed photograph back on the shelf. She had known him for years but today she had no idea what he was thinking.

"It's a great picture," she said as she moved into the clubhouse.

"We've had a lot of great times," he replied. His face seemed pale beneath his freckles and his green eyes were somber. "I haven't heard from you lately. How are things going?"

"Busy with school and my job," she said. "But I'm sure Brian's kept you updated."

"Uh…yeah," he said. For a moment, he studied Trixie. She looked thinner and her hair was longer than it had been when he left. It fell in soft curls around her face, accenting her creamy, freckled skin. Her eyes were as blue as the sky on a cloudless, spring day. After all the years he had known her, there was something about her that still drew him to her. He swallowed hard and then took a deep breath. _I have to tell her now or I won't be able to. _Setting his shoulders, he began."Trixie, there's something I have to tell you—something I need to explain."

Trixie watched Jim closely. She could tell by his movements that he was uncomfortable. A part of her wanted him to suffer, to hurt the way that she hurt. However, she still cared deeply for him—no matter what he had done. With that in mind, she decided to make the confrontation easier on both of them.

"It's okay, Jim," she said. She kept her voice flat and emotionless. She wanted to this to be over. If there was a long, drawn-out scene, her composure might falter. _I can't let him see me cry, _she thought desperately. _I won't let him pity me. _"I know."

Jim shook his head. She couldn't know what he needed to tell her. He wet his lips.

"Trixie…" he started and then, trailed off. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to tell her what he needed to tell her. He tried again, "Trixie…"

"It's okay," she repeated in same cold, lifeless tone. "I know."

"Know?" Jim asked, his attention caught more by her voice than her words. He had never heard Trixie sound like she did now.

"I know that you have a girlfriend," she said. "Greg Alden told me several weeks ago. Then, Mart and Dan went up to the City on the first day of Fall Break. They saw you with her on the street and came back and told me."

Jim was shocked. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. He had put off telling her because he wanted to tell her about his girlfriend face to face. He had never dreamed that someone else would find out and tell her before he had a chance.

"I wanted to tell you in person," he started, trying desperately to explain. "I didn't want you to hear it from someone else."

Trixie responded, a hint of sadness in her soft voice. "Believe me, Jim, I'd rather not have found out the way I did either. Alden had way too much fun telling me."

"I'm sorry," he said helplessly, taking a step toward her.

She automatically stepped away from him and Jim was taken off guard by how much her withdrawal hurt him.

"Trixie…" he began. He had to make things right between them. When he had started dating, he had known that his and Trixie's relationship would change but he hadn't considered how much.

She met his gaze, unflinchingly. "Look, there's nothing to be sorry for," she told him, her voice remained cool. "We were just friends."

Jim stared at Trixie in a daze. The young woman who stood before him wasn't the emotional, exuberant girl that he had grown up with. She wasn't even the girl he had spent last summer with. Her blue eyes were empty. The sparkling gleam that had lit her gaze whenever they talked was missing. She was cool and collected and seemed...older.

"Just friends? We were more…"

She cut him off. "No, we weren't, Jim. You never made any promises. You never asked me out."

"I told you that you were special to me. Trixie, you have to believe that you'll always be special to me."

"Sure," Trixie agreed but the tone of her voice belied her words.

Jim sighed with frustration, "Things are never easy with you anymore, Trixie. You drive me crazy. Last year, when I went to college, I thought about you all the time—when I was at my apartment, when I was in class, when I was studying. My grades...well, let's just say my grades weren't what they should have been. On top of that, I didn't make any friends. If it hadn't been for Brian, I wouldn't have had any friends."

Running a hand through his hair, he paced back and forth across the room before he continued, "Then, when I came home last summer, I was going to ask you out. I thought if we were together, things would be better but my parents talked me out of it. They didn't think that it was a good idea. They said you were too young and that your parents would agree with them. I know I'm only three years older than you but the age difference is huge right now. We're at different stages in our lives. If we had met later…"

He shook the thought off and continued, "Anyway, Mom and Dad said that I needed to meet other girls so I could compare what I felt for you with what I felt for them. When I went back to school, they asked me to show the daughter of some of their friends around campus. Mom said that she was a freshman and needed a friend who was familiar with the city. When I met her, I…She's great, Trix. She's smart and funny and we have a great time... "

Trixie held up her hand and Jim trailed off. "I really don't want to know how you feel about her." _Or how your mom fixed you up with her, _she thought bitterly. _I guess I know how Mrs. Wheeler feels about me now. I'm not good enough for her precious son. _

"I never meant for this to happen. You have to believe me," Jim said, the sincerity in voice was painful to hear. "The thing is...I'm happier now. I don't think of you all the time anymore. My grades are better and I've made friends at school. It's better for me this way."

Slowly, she nodded. As she looked at him, she saw distress and guilt written across his face. He was pale beneath his freckles but Trixie couldn't feel sorry for him. She couldn't let her guard down. She knew if she did, she would fall apart. She went past him and picked up the photo of the Bob-Whites. She smiled sadly as she looked at it. "We seem so young. I thought that we'd be together forever."

In that moment, Jim realized that she was no longer talking about them but about the Bob-Whites.

Walking up behind her, he started to put his hand on her shoulder but stopped when he realized that she wouldn't want him to touch her. "You're overreacting. Just because you and I…" He stopped and after a moment, he started again, "The Bob-Whites will always be friends. You and I will always be friends."

Trixie sat the photo down and turned to face him. When she saw how close he stood to her, she moved away from him. "As Moms always says, 'we're old enough that our wants won't hurt us'," she said sadly and then she continued with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "I'm sorry, Jim, but I can't be your friend right now. I know I'm being immature but I guess that's because I'm so much younger than you."

"Trixie…"

She expelled a deep breath. "I need time," she told him honestly. With a sorrowful smile, she continued, "Maybe someday…"

With those words, she turned and walked to the door of the clubhouse. Hesitating, she knew that she couldn't leave without asking the question that had plagued her for weeks. Looking back at him, she asked, "Did Honey know?"

He shook his head. "I told her this morning. I thought you might need someone to talk to…" Her expression changed so fast that he trailed off. The emotionless mask was gone and she looked at him with contempt and disdain.

"Talk to Honey about us?" she asked and then shook her head. When her eyes met his, they were an icy blue. "I wouldn't do that to either of you."

"Trixie…"

"Don't worry, Jim," she said, her face and voice once again emotionless. "I'll be fine." With those final words, she walked out into the sunshine, leaving him behind in the darkened clubhouse.

* * *

Jim walked slowly down the path toward the lake. He felt drained—like all of the life had been sucked out of him. Before he talked with Trixie, he had thought that he would feel relieved when the confrontation was over. He didn't. He felt empty and cold—like he had lost something really important to him.

He put his hands in his pockets as he approached the dock. Brian was sitting on it, staring at the water. When the dark haired young man heard the slow footsteps approaching him, he looked up with a frown on his handsome face.

"What are you doing here? I thought that Trixie would…"

Jim interrupted him, "She already knew."

There was a look of incredulity on Brian's face. "What?" His frown grew. "How…"

"Some guy at school saw me and Morgan in the city. He told her. Then, Mart and Dan came up. Remember, we asked them to visit us before we left. Well, they saw me and Morgan, too."

Brian's head fell back and he stared up at the cloudless, blue sky. Looking back at his friend, he shook his head remorsefully. "I should have told her. I knew that you should have told her right away but..." The disgust he felt with himself was written on his face. "I didn't want to come home. It was too inconvenient. What was I thinking?"

Jim shook his head at his friend. "I asked you not to talk to her. I wanted to be the one to tell her and we both thought that I needed to tell her in person." He sat down beside the other man, his feet dangling off the dock. "But I kept procrastinating—putting it off."

"It doesn't matter, Jim. She's my sister. I should have..." Brian trailed off. "How did she take it?"

Jim shrugged, "Okay. I guess." He sighed and lay back on the dock. "I don't know." He went quiet. For several minutes, he was still, listening to the sounds around him. "She said that she couldn't be my friend right now…"

"You had to know that she would feel that way," Brian told his friend as he also lay back against the dock.

"Maybe I should have known," Jim said, staring unseeingly into the sky that was the color of Trixie's eyes. "But I guess I couldn't imagine me and Trixie not being friends…"

Silence descended between the two men and Jim remembered all of the good times that he and Trixie had spent together. He would miss them—miss her but it was for the best. He had mountains to climb and dreams to fulfill, things he couldn't do if he were obsessed with her.

* * *

After her meeting with Jim, Trixie felt like she was flying high on adrenaline. She ran back to the house and changed into her running clothes. Grabbing her cell phone, her mp3 player and the canister of pepper spray, she raced down the stairs into the kitchen. It was deserted so she wrote her mom a note and left it on the kitchen table.

Soon, she was sprinting down Glenn Road. Running allowed her to escape from her thoughts. As she ran, she focused on her breathing technique and her footfalls. The nervous energy fueled her steps and she ran longer than she had planned. When she was about a mile from home, her cell phone rang. She slowed to a brisk walk and pulled it out of her pocket. It was her mother.

"Trixie? Where are you?" Helen asked worriedly. "You've been gone longer than usual."

"Sorry, Moms," Trixie said, "but I had my GPS on. Isn't your cell working?"

Helen sighed. "I forgot that I can track you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Trixie reassured her. "I ran a little farther than I planned. I was concentrating on my breathing technique and lost track of time. I'm a little over a mile from home. I should be there in less than ten minutes."

"Good," Helen said and then lowered her voice, "Trixie, Honey is here."

Trixie sighed, "Okay. I'll see you in a few minutes."

The rest of her run passed quickly and a short time later, Trixie walked up the front steps of the farm house. Honey was sitting in the swing, slowly pushing it back and forth with her foot. She dressed in destroyed jeans and a pink, thermal Henley. Her eyes were swollen and her face blotchy.

"Honey?" Trixie asked, alarmed at her friend's expression. "Is something wrong?"

Honey's hazel eyes studied Trixie intently. All she saw was concern for her. Confused and somewhat hurt, she replied, "No. Yes. I don't know. Trixie, Jim told me that he has a girlfriend…"

"I know," the blonde-haired teenager interrupted. "Greg Alden told me several weeks ago."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Honey demanded, her tone angry.

Trixie shrugged. "I tried to tell you. Well, before Alden told me, I tried to tell you that I thought something was wrong. Besides, I didn't know if you knew."

"You thought I knew?" Honey asked, her voice somewhat shrill. She jumped up and paced back and forth across the porch as anger and hurt warred for control of her emotions.

"He's your brother, Honey."

"You're my best friend," the brunette retorted quickly.

"Brian knew."

The statement stopped Honey in her tracks. Suddenly, she understood her friend's reaction. Trixie's own brother had known and not told her. The anger and hurt fled, replaced by confusion and despair. The two friends faced each other and for a moment, neither knew what to say. It was a first. Uncomfortable with the silence, Trixie busied herself and put her mp3 player in the pocket of her pants.

"Trixie, what's happening to us?"

The blonde looked up and met her friend's eyes. With a helpless shrug, she answered, "We're growing up."

Honey sighed and walked past Trixie. She sat down on the swing. Her shoulders drooped and her body language screamed defeat.

"If this is the way things are going to be, I don't want to grow up," she said crossly in a tone that was so unusual for her that Trixie almost laughed.

Crossing to the swing, Trixie sat down by her best friend. "I don't think we can stop it."

There was a moment of silence before Honey said, "You still should have told me."

"He's your brother. I'm your best friend. Neither one of us should put you in the middle. It wouldn't be fair," Trixie said.

Honey nodded in understanding. Although Trixie had been her friend longer than Jim had been her brother, Jim was family.

"Besides, we haven't had a chance to talk lately with school, our jobs and stuff." Trixie justified as she pulled her headband off and ran her hands through her blonde hair.

Honey's brow furrowed at her friend's words. "You're right. I spend more time with the women at the country club than I do with you and Diana. I hate it." Shaking her head, she clarified, "I don't hate my job or working on the Christmas Ball. I just hate not being able to spend time with my best friends."

Trixie met Honey's eyes. "I know. Di and I were talking the other day. She said the other day that she spends more time with Jane Morgan than she does with us."

"We need to make time to hang out together." Honey insisted. Suddenly, she clapped her hands. "I know. You've been talking about getting in shape for your next self defense class. You, Diana and I can start doing Pilates and step aerobics three times a week. We can work out and then hang out together."

Turning her head away from her friend, Trixie stared across the yard. She hoped Honey didn't see the revulsion she felt. She hated aerobics and had no clue what Pilates was but she guessed that it wouldn't be fun. On the other hand, she would be spending time with Honey and Di. That was important to her and was always fun.

"Sure," she said, glancing back at Honey with a smile. "That sounds like a plan."

Honey beamed. She looked happy and relieved. "Make sure you bring your calendar to lunch with you on Monday. I'll tell Di to bring hers, too. We'll schedule a time that's good for all of us." She was quiet for a moment before she asked, "Are you okay?"

Trixie thought about Honey's question. She wasn't okay. She was getting there but she wasn't okay…yet. Conflicted, she thought if she answered the question truthfully, Honey would feel bad. On the other hand, if she lied, Honey might realize that she wasn't telling the truth.

"I'm getting there."

Taking a deep breath, Honey's voice was tinged with desperation as she insisted, "Promise me that no matter what happens you and I will always be friends."

"No matter what happens we'll always be friends."

"We won't let anything—or anyone—come between us. Promise me, Trixie."

"I promise that I won't let anything—or anyone—come between us."

The two friends sat together as the swing rocked gently back and forth. They knew that everything was changing but hoped, with luck and effort, their friendship would survive.


	9. Chapter 9: The Christmas Ball

_**Chapter Nine: The Christmas Ball**_

Autumn chilled into winter and the Sleepyside Bob-Whites settled into a new routine. They were still very busy but they ate lunch at school together and Trixie, Honey and Di exercised and hung out at least three times a week. When they had a chance, the five of them exercised the horses and got together to play games and complain about their lives as teenagers. Thing were different but they had found a new balance and everything was going well.

It was the evening after Christmas and the Sleepyside Country Club was lit up with thousands of white fairy lights. Tonight was the First Annual Christmas Ball. The fundraiser had been conceived by Madeleine Wheeler when she read an article in the _Sleepyside Times _about the budget constraints facing the police department and fire department. She had organized a Ladies' Auxiliary Group at the country club to oversee and organize the ball. The group not only included women at the country club but also their teenage daughters. Both Honey and Diana had been enlisted. However, when an emergency had arisen and Madeleine had had to leave town, Honey had stepped into her mother's place. No one had been surprised by her organizational talent or innate leadership ability.

Although the Beldens were not members of the country club, Trixie's parents had purchased tickets for the ball when they had gone on sale several weeks ago. Mart had also purchased tickets for himself and Di since Diana was on the decorations committee. Trixie had not planned on attending the festivities in spite of Honey's offer to give her a complementary ticket. However, a week ago, Chief Molinson had presented her with a ticket and ordered her to put in appearance.

Trixie stood in the receiving line with her parents and looked around in awe. _Wow. Honey did this._ Suddenly, Trixie understood why Madeline Wheeler became so exasperated when she and Honey discussed opening a detective agency together. Honey was caring, gracious and amiable. With her fundraising and organizational skills, she would be an invaluable asset to any charitable organization.

Amazed at her friends' accomplishments, Trixie was polite but distracted as she greeted the people in the receiving line. The Molinsons and the Wheelers were the last two couples in line. The chief nodded brusquely at Trixie as she shook his wife's hand. Then, Trixie was standing in front of Matthew and Madeleine Wheeler.

"Good evening, Trixie," Madeleine greeted her in cultured tones while Matthew smiled at her.

"Good evening, Mrs. Wheeler," she responded automatically and then she glanced around again. When she looked back at her best friend's mother, she said softly, "Honey did an exceptional job. She's very talented. I bet she would have great success as a professional fundraiser. "

The older woman looked surprised at Trixie's words and then she offered the younger woman a genuine smile. "I agree, Trixie," she replied, "but she's still young. I hope that... ," the glamorous woman paused and intentionally met Trixie's eyes, "…both of you will have many opportunities before you choose your career paths. Now, the rest of the Bob-Whites are out of the balcony. You should join them."

There was concern in the older woman's eyes. Trixie knew that Jim and his girlfriend were in attendance. Everyone—all of the Bob-Whites, her parents, Reagan and Mrs. Trask—had warned her that Jim was coming home to attend the Christmas benefit that his mother and sister had organized. It was Trixie's moment of truth. She looked at her parents and knew that they would be close by if she needed them.

Nodding, Trixie excused herself and headed toward the balcony. When she reached the glass doors, she hesitated and then took a deep breath. _Keep it together, Belden, _she advised herself. Stepping out onto the balcony, she glanced around for her friends. She saw them standing in the corner—Mart and Diana, Brian, Dan, Honey, Jim and his new girlfriend, Morgan. For a moment, Trixie was able to study the girl unobserved.

She was tall—at least five foot, ten inches—and lovely. She had thick brown hair that fell in waves around her heart-shaped face. Her features were symmetrical, her brown eyes large, her nose straight and her mouth bow-shaped. She wore a scarlet, floor-length dress made of silk. The dress had a crisscross bodice with spaghetti straps that displayed her swanlike neck and creamy white shoulders. Its mermaid skirt flattered her willowy form.

Groaning silently, Trixie thought that the girl looked like she belonged on a runway in Paris or on a red carpet in Hollywood. _Alden was right, _Trixie thought sadly. _There's no way I can compete with someone as beautiful as her. Beside her, I look dumpy and plain. _

Just then, Diana noticed her and waved. Trixie waved back as everyone turned to look at her. As she approached the group, she started to smile but stopped when she realized that her smile would look more like a grimace. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her arm and stopped.

"Hey, Trix," Scott Calder greeted her as she spun around.

"Hi, Scott," Trixie said and then gaped at him in surprise. She was used to seeing him in class ones or jeans and shirt. Tonight, however, he wore his fireman's dress uniform. He was good-looking and exuded that sexy charisma that all men in dress uniforms had. "Wow."

"Wow right back at you," he responded, taking in her slim form. Trixie wore a lilac cock cocktail dress. It was strapless and knee-length. Its curve-hugging bodice radiated a subtle sex appeal while the playful ruching of the skirt added a fun and flirtatious edginess. Scott's gaze travelled slowly down her form, starting with the creamy expanse of skin above the soft sprinkling of beads across the dress's bust line and ending with the shapely legs framed by the flirty skirt and silver, beaded sandals. His eyes were serious and intense as he informed her, "You certainly don't look like you're sixteen. You look hot."

Rolling her eyes at him in disbelief, Trixie chastised him, "Give me a break, Calder. Lilac is not my color. It's too girly for me. My friend Diana picked this up for me when Chief Molinson told me that he expected me to come tonight."

With a considering look, Scott slowly walked around her, unaware that he was drawing fierce frowns from the four young men standing across the balcony.

"No, I was right the first time," he told her, his eyes twinkling, "Lilac or not. You look hot."

With a suspicious stare, Trixie asked, "Is someone paying you to be nice to me again?"

Scott laughed and shook his head. He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "You can pay me by dancing with me, Miss Belden."

She pulled back and whispered, "Jim and his girlfriend are here. I've got to go and speak to them. If I go dance with you, everyone will think that I'm putting it off because…" Her voice broke and she swallowed. After a moment, she continued, "They'll think that I can't handle meeting her."

Glancing over her bare shoulder at her friends, he noted the glares receiving from the young men in the group. He wasn't sure that Trixie's assessment of the situation was correct. It may have right before he approached her but it seemed that her friends' anxiety about the coming meeting had morphed into curiosity about him. He smiled realizing that he might be able to make the evening easier for her.

He liked Trixie and was more than willing to do whatever he could to help her out. After all, everything he had heard and knew about the young blonde told him that she would do the same for him.

"I think you're wrong," he mused. "Of course, you know them better than I do. Are you sure that they won't think that you're going to dance with a hot guy?"

"Hot guy? There's a hot guy around here? Where?" Trixie teased with a saucy grin. When she tossed her head, her curls danced around her face. Then she grew solemn as she explained, "They know that guys don't like me like that."

He started to laugh and then realized that she believed every word that she had just said. Her complete lack of vanity and guile were part of her charm. With Trixie, a man would never have to guess at what was going on because if he couldn't figure it out by looking at her, she would tell him. Trixie was pretty, smart and funny. She was easy to be around. With an indiscernible shake of his head, he thought, _Jim Frayne is a freakin' idiot._

Unaware of Scott's thoughts, Trixie continued to tell him her plan, "So I'm going to go over there and follow your sage advice. I'm going to act like it's okay that Jim is with someone else." Her tone was firm and resolute.

Solemnly, he looked at her and then, glanced around the balcony. "It looks like I'm the only back-up available. I'll go with you and act like I'm okay with Jim being with someone else, too."

Trixie smiled at his witty comment but regretfully shook her head, "I'd love for you to come with me but you can't. This is something that I have to do by myself. No back-up."

Scott watched as she steeled herself to face Jim and his new girlfriend. Her expression was plastic and forced. With a silent groan, his mind raced for a way to put her at ease. Suddenly, an idea struck him.

"Did you know that Canaan gave Frayne a warning for going forty-three miles per hour in a forty mile per hour speed zone today?" She looked at him with surprise, her blue eyes wide with shock. Scott nodded and continued, "He also gave the brunette a warning for not wearing her seatbelt."

Trixie looked up at him, realizing that he was trying to put her at ease. Her eyes glowed with appreciation. "Thank you."

"'Thank you' doesn't pay the bills, Belden," he replied. "You owe me. If you don't dance with me later, you owe me twenty dollars."

She laughed up at him and then turned and walked over to the small group standing at the edge of the balcony. The genuine smile was still on her face when she greeted her friends. She hugged Di and Honey and waited for Jim to introduce her to his girlfriend.

"Trixie, this is Morgan. Morgan, Trixie," Jim said, his eyes intent on the two young women.

Morgan held out her hand, "Hi, Trixie."

Trixie felt frozen inside but she took the girl's hand and responded. Her voice did not falter as she greeted the other woman, "Hi, Morgan. That's a great dress."

The brunette's smile bloomed. "Thanks. Yours is great, too."

Her blue eyes slid to Diana as Trixie admitted, "I can't take the credit. I hate shopping but fortunately for me, I have a friend with excellent fashion sense who is more than willing to spend my hard-earned money on clothes."

"Who's the guy?" The question came out of nowhere and Trixie turned toward Mart. She was taken aback by the suspicious glower on his face. "He looks familiar."

"That's because he is familiar," Trixie told her brother in an exasperated tone. She shook her head at him, her face showing her annoyance at her brother's words and tone. "He's Scott Calder. Don't you remember him? He was a year ahead of Brian and Jim. He's one of the auxiliary officers on the force. He rides with Wiley Jackson. He also works full-time with the Fire Department."

"A policeman and a fireman?" Diana asked as she and the others looked over at Scott. He was standing with Canaan Davis and some young firefighters, talking and laughing.

Looking over her shoulder at the young man in question, Trixie met his eyes. Her lips twisted into a rueful smile as she said, "Scott has a hero complex. He likes being the guy in the white—or in this case, black or blue depending on whether he's working at the fire department or the police department—hat."

Trixie turned back to Morgan. "So what do you think about Sleepyside?"

"I've never spent much time in the country so it's different," the svelte brunette said, shrugging her creamy shoulders. "It's been…uh…it's been an experience."

Nodding, Trixie assured the other girl, "It's a great place with great people. I'm sure it'll grow on you."

"So, Trixie, Diana and Honey were just telling me that they plan to go to college in the City. Are those your plans, too?"

"I really don't know," Trixie answered honestly, shrugging her shoulders. The movement drew attention the creamy expanse of skin above the bust line of her dress, causing the male members of the Bob-Whites to frown in consternation. They had all seen Di and Honey looking glamorous and sexy but an alluring, attractive Trixie was a new experience for them. "I've always assumed that I would go to college in the City but recently I've received some interesting brochures from other schools around the country. The University of Missouri, Michigan State and the University of Pennsylvania all have top-ranked ranked criminal justice programs."

All of the Bob-Whites looked surprised but it was Honey who exclaimed, "You're thinking of going to school somewhere else?"

Trixie shrugged again. "I've seen some of Dan's college brochures and I've started getting some of my own."

At the mention of his name, Dan looked uncomfortable and threw Trixie an irritated glance. When his friends turned to him in surprise, he shrugged.

"What's she talking about?" Mart asked his best friend. He looked surprised. "You never told me you were thinking about going to an out-of-state college."

The dark-haired boy met his eyes. "Look, Mart, they sent them to me after we took the SATs. Sure, I looked at them. I've even applied to a couple of them but we all know that there's no way I can afford to go to college out of state. I'll be lucky to go to college at all." There was no bitterness in his words, his tone matter-of-fact, but his words made his friends feel uncomfortable and guilty about their good fortune.

"Dan..." Mart said.

"Give it a rest, Belden," Dan stopped the other man. With a grin, he continued, "Unless you're going to be all pathetic and grovel and beg for forgiveness. I wouldn't mind that seeing that."

"In your dreams but you're off the hook," the blond man snorted before he turned back to his sister and told her. "And you're back on."

Everyone turned back to Trixie who returned their inquiring looks with the blank look Mart had dubbed her "Stepford Sister" expression.

"Well?" Honey prompted. The expression on her face made it clear that she felt like her best friend had betrayed her.

Trixie felt like Benedict Arnold. For a moment-just a brief moment, she resented that Honey was making her feel responsible for everyone else's happiness. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile and said, "Okay, okay. I admit it. I'm guilty of the same thing Dan is. I was dreaming. You guys know Moms and Dad can't afford to pay out-of-state tuition." With a grimace', she joked, "And with my unexceptional grades, I'll be lucky if I get accepted at the community college in White Plains."

The look on Honey's face was not amused. "That's not funny."

Suddenly, Trixie felt a hand on the small of her back. Without looking, she knew it was Scott. Obviously, his hero complex had defeated his self-control. With relief, she turned toward him. "Scott, do you remember my friends from school?"

With a self-deprecating smile, he shook his head. "Sorry, I don't recall everyone's names."

"Well, let me introduce you. Scott, this is Honey Wheeler."

As she introduced her best friend, she smiled with pride. Like Jim's new girlfriend, Honey was lovely and looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine. She had spent Thanksgiving break in Hawaii and the week before Christmas in Tahiti. Her golden tan was accentuated by the pure white material of her designer gown. The Grecian-styled dress had an empire waist and clung to Honey's slim form in the right places. Her make-up was perfectly applied and her hair was swept up stylishly showing off her long, slim neck and the diamond necklace that adorned it.

Smiling, Honey shook Scott's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," the young auxiliary officer replied gallantly. "According to Trixie, you played an integral part in arranging this fundraiser. From what I understand, we're going to be able to purchase new hoses and bullet-proof vests. There's no way we can thank you and the other organizers enough."

When Scott was finished charming Honey, Trixie introduced him to Diana. Like the other young women, Diana was immaculately dressed. Her dress was a dark violet color and was covered in sequins. Although it had a modest neckline and long sleeves, it was very short, showcasing Diana's beautiful, long legs. Her make-up was applied so that her violet eyes dominated her lovely face.

Before Di could greet Scott, he thanked her.

"For what?" Diana asked quizzically.

"For the lilac dress."

Di was instantly captivated and gave Scott a welcoming smile. "Any friend of Trixie's is a friend of mine."

"This is Morgan. I've just met her," Trixie said.

Morgan offered Scott her hand. As he took it, she asked, "So you're the hero?"

"Only in my dreams," he told her remorsefully. "At this point in my career, I'm the guy watching the hoses and securing the scene. That's a great dress, by the way."

Turning toward the men in the group, Trixie nodded toward her male siblings. "My brothers, Brian and Mart."

Scott and Brian nodded politely at each other while Mart glared suspiciously at the older man. With a hostile look, he said, "I don't think Trixie's ever mentioned you."

Scott merely continued to smile and turned to the two men who were left. "I remember you from school, Jim." He told the red-headed man before he turned to Dan Mangan. "That means you're Dan. Trixie has told me all about you. She said that you're interested in going to the police academy this summer before you start college. You might want to look at the one in White Plains. They treat recruits like they're in basic training with the Marines but it's a good academy. I learned a lot."

Dan's frown disappeared as the other man spoke. Although he had been prepared to dislike the older man because of the way he had looked at Trixie earlier, he changed his mind. He decided to reserve his opinion and give the guy a chance.

He held out his hand. Scott's grip was firm and his palm cool. "So is Trixie driving the officers at the police station crazy?"

"Are you kidding? She's has all of us saying 'gleeps' and 'gosh' and drinking strawberry pop," Scott said, grinning when the young people burst into laughter. While everyone was still amused, he looked at Trixie, "Do you have twenty dollars?"

Trixie laughed. "No."

Shaking his head, he told her, "Then it looks like you owe me a dance." He glanced back at the others and continued, "I'm going to steal Trix away. It was nice meeting all of you."

Without waiting for any of them to respond, he took Trixie's arm and led her away.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"No," Trixie said slowly. "I think I did okay."

"You did great, kid."

"Scott, I thought I told you that I didn't need back-up."

He stopped and turned her to face him. His expression was serious when he met her eyes. "Trix, one of the most important things I've learned since working with Jackson is that you always need back-up. You never go into a dangerous situation by yourself."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"Stick with me, kid," he said as he threw his arm around her shoulder. "I'll show you the ropes."

"Oh, yeah?" Trixie sent Scott a sideways glance. Her blue eyes were dancing with appreciation when she continued, "Well, you are pretty good back-up, Calder. I don't think I could have pulled it off without you." Raising a sandy brow, she mused thoughtfully, "I just have one question. Can you dance?"

At his grimace, Trixie mused thoughtfully, "Maybe I should borrow twenty bucks from my dad..."

Laughing, the young officer pulled her onto the ballroom floor to join the gyrating throng of dancers. When the song ended, Canaan Davis cut in. As the evening progressed, Trixie danced with Scott and Canaan several more times. She also danced with some of the other officers from the police station as well as several younger firemen to whom Scot introduced her.

Later, she noticed that the other Bob-Whites had joined the festivities. During the slow numbers, afraid that she would burst into tears at the sight of Jim and Morgan wrapped in each other's arms, she focused intently on her partners. She was a survivor and she would survive having her heart broken.


	10. Chapter 10: Discord and Unhappiness

**Chapter Ten: Discord and Unhappiness**

The Beldens, the Wheelers and the Lynches had become friends because of their children. Normally, the couples wouldn't have travelled in the same social circles even though they were neighbors. Their paths would have only crossed when they passed each other on Glenn Road or at social events like this one. However, since their children's lives were so entwined, they had become more than neighborly acquaintances.

Tonight, the six adults watched as the Bob-Whites took the dance floor. With a sigh, Madeline Wheeler said, "Things are going so much more smoothly than I thought that they would go."

Helen Belden smiled tightly and asked, "Really? I never had any doubts that things would go smoothly." There was an uneasy silence for a moment before she continued, "Honey did an incredible job, Madeline. You must be very proud of her.

"Yes," the other woman agreed quickly. The Wheeler name and fortune had gained Madeline instant standing among Sleepyside's country club set. However, she had quickly learned that being Helen Belden's friend also had its advantages. Helen was very well thought of by everyone in the area. Her family had been citizens of the sleepy, little town for over three hundred years and even though she herself never acknowledged her family's ties to town history, everyone else in the community knew and respected them.

Peter Belden's recent promotion to president of the local bank had only increased the other woman's standing in the community. Everyone had expected the Beldens to join the country club. When they hadn't, several members had suggested that the Wheelers introduce them to the benefits of joining the prestigious institution. The other members thought that having a member of Sleepyside's oldest and most-respected families join the club would be a coup.

In addition, Helen was good to Jim and Honey and they loved her and the rest of her family. Honey and Trixie were as close as sisters and Brian and Jim were best friends. Insulting Trixie—even inadvertently—and offending Helen in front of the town's elite would be a personal and social disaster for Madeline.

"I am very proud of her," she responded, wondering how she could smooth over the gaffe she had made several minutes earlier. Luckily for her, fate and Sara Lynch were on her side.

"I, for one, am proud of all of Bob-Whites. They dress up rather nicely," Sara remarked proudly. With natural in-born graciousness, Helen agreed and Madeline sighed silently with relief. As the tension dissolved, the women turned away from the men to discuss their children's fashionable evening attire.

The men remained quiet as they stood watching the swaying couples.

After a few moments, Peter Belden muttered under his breath, "Maybe they dress up too nicely." He frowned as he watched a fireman slowly dance with his only daughter. The young man was holding Trixie entirely too closely. Peter's eyes narrowed as the uniformed man laughed at something she said, seemingly captivated by her.

"You really don't want to do that," Edward Lynch said as Peter contemplated walking across the dance floor and yanking Trixie out of the young philanderer's arms.

"Why the hell not?" he growled, his eyes not leaving the young couple.

"First, you'll embarrass yourself, Helen and Trixie. Second, it will be weeks before Helen will even consider forgiving you," his friend told him as he clapped him on the shoulder. "And third, if you give in to your desire to beat that young man to a pulp, I might give in to my desire to do the same to your son."

Peter's eyes flew to Edward's and then, across the room, to Mart and Diana. They were wound together so closely together that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

"You know," he turned away from the dance floor. "I don't know if I'm going to survive this."

"Trixie is the belle of the ball," Matt Wheeler watched as the pretty blonde was claimed by another uniformed young man. "Maybe you need to put a sign on her. You know, one that says 'I'm only sixteen'."

When the other man frowned consideringly, his friends laughed at him. With a grin, Ed told him, "He was kidding."

Matt nodded and continued with a sideways glance at Edward Lynch, "Besides, Pete, it could be much worse."

"How's that?"

"You could have two more daughters."

Peter looked at Ed in horrified sympathy. "That's right. You're going to go through this with Julie and Ari, too."

Ed sighed dismally, his amusement at his friend's reaction fading into commiseration. "Yeah."

"You two are pathetic," Matt informed them.

Snorting, Ed agreed, "True, but the only reason you're not as pathetic as we are is that Honey has been too busy with her duties as a hostess to dance with any of those young bucks." Ed looked at Peter in apology, "No offense."

"None taken," Peter said, glancing toward his middle son. He could see where Ed might be annoyed with Mart.

The women in the group chose that moment to join the men's conversation. With cool smile she was famous for, Madeline said, "Matt and I have an invitation to issue." She glanced at her husband and at his brief nod, she continued. "We had a marvelous time in Tahiti but Honey was rather disconsolate. She kept complaining that she missed her friends…" She paused again and sent a measuring look at Helen. "…so since things are going so well, we thought all of the kids could spend the rest of the week with us in the city. There's more than enough room for all of them. They could go to Time Square and watch the ball drop on New Year's Eve."

Sara Lynch clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, Diana will be thrilled by the invitation. She's also been complaining about not getting to spend enough time with the others."

The two women looked at Helen in anticipation. The blonde woman sipped her champagne thoughtfully before saying, "Of course, Brian is old enough to make his own decision but I'm not sure Mart and Trixie will be able to go."

"Why not?" Madeline asked, seemingly distressed by Helen's statement.

"Mart is scheduled to work this week. He also has a journalism project that is due the day he goes back to school. As for Trixie, Peter and I weren't satisfied with her math grade this semester and have arranged for Mr. Crandall to begin tutoring her."

Matt nodded in understanding and then said, "I'm sure Mart's employer would understand what a wonderful opportunity this is and when I spoke with him in the receiving line, he said that his journalism project was finished."

Madeline took up where her husband left off. "Miss Trask is going with us and I'm sure she would be more than willing to help Trixie with her math."

"I have no problem with Mart going if he finishes his journalism project and can get off from work. However, Trixie knew that she had to maintain a certain grade point average in math and she didn't. I think that it's important for her to learn that her grades are important so that she doesn't make the same mistake again. This isn't the first time she's let her grades slip."

"But…"

"I'm sorry but my mind is made up."

Matt and Madeline looked from Helen to Peter who merely shrugged. "I agree with Helen. Trixie did promise to maintain a 'B' average in math. Letting Miss Trask tutor her while she goes to New York City would not be a suitable punishment."

"Oh, Honey will be so upset," Madeline murmured.

"So will Trixie," Peter stated. "However, they'll both get over it, Madeline."

* * *

Toward the end of the evening, Trixie saw that the rest of the Bob-Whites had gathered at a table on the other end of the ballroom and knew that it would seem strange if she didn't join them. Resolutely squaring her shoulders, Trixie excused herself from her dance partner and retrieved a glass of sparkling grape juice from one of the waiters. She sipped it as she crossed the room. When Trixie slipped into one of the chairs at the table where the rest of the BWGs were sitting, Honey and Di immediately turned toward her, showering her with comments and questions about the young men with whom she had danced.

"Oh my gosh," Honey said. "Scott is so charming. Why haven't you told us about him?"

"Charming?" Di scoffed. "Forget charming. He is really hot. No wonder you weren't upset about…" The violet-eyed girl trailed off suddenly and glanced warily around her. With a slight grimace, she noticed that Jim, Morgan and the rest of the Bob-Whites were listening to her.

Luckily for Di, Morgan didn't feel the sudden mood change and joined the conversation. "He seemed really nice and I'll second both charming and hot. Is he your boyfriend?" Everyone froze at her innocent question and waited tensely for Trixie's response.

Trixie was astounded. "My boyfriend?" After her initial amazement passed, she laughed good-naturedly. "Scott? Heavens, no. He's too old for me. There is no way my dad would let me go out with him."

Morgan looked away from Trixie and searched the room for the young officer. "That's a shame because I think he likes you."

"He likes me all right," the blonde girl laughed. When Morgan tilted her head and looked inquisitive, Trixie explained matter-of-factly. "He likes me like he likes a little sister or a family pet. Really, he's just a good friend-kind of like a big brother." Looking at her older siblings with a mock frown, she amended her statement. "A nice big brother."

"Well, he looks really good in his uniform. If he ever asks you out, I think you should try to think of him as something other than a brother," Morgan suggested encouragingly, making Trixie realize that under different circumstances, she might have liked the older girl. However, before Trixie could respond, Tad Webster walked up to the table and sat down beside Honey.

"Hi," he greeted the group. Then, he turned to Honey, focusing his attention on her. "I heard you had a lot to do with this, Honey. It's really great."

Honey blushed prettily. Smoothing her skirt, she smiled at Tad, "Thank you."

Nodding, Tad turned away from her and looked at Morgan. "So you're Jim's new girlfriend?" he asked when no one introduced the pretty brunette. At her nod, he continued, "I can't tell you how glad I am to meet you."

Interpreting his words as an insult to Trixie, Di and Honey exchanged horrified glances. Mart and Dan, however, frowned as the young man glanced at Trixie. With narrowed eyes, they watched Tad eye Trixie longingly. Chatting with Brian, the young blonde was unaware of his attention. Wetting his lips, he opened his mouth and then closed it. With a sigh of defeat, he turned back toward Honey and smiled.

At that moment, Spider Webster, Tad's older brother, joined them. He nodded a greeting to everyone and then asked Trixie, "So, Belden, do you want to dance?"

"No way, Webster," Trixie refused with an unladylike snort and then good-naturedly teased him about the self-defense class he had taught several weeks before. "I've seen how you treat women. You'd put me in a chokehold, throw me over your shoulder and then, pin me to the ground with a chicken wing arm lock."

Spider laughed. "I would never treat a lady like that, Belden." With a grin, he narrowed his eyes and looked at Trixie consideringly. "Then again, with you, I might be tempted. We'd better not risk it." He turned to Honey and bowed gallantly, "Miss Wheeler, would you dance with me?"

Honey smiled graciously and took his outstretched hand. As she lowered her lashes, no one saw the disappointed look in her eyes as Spider led her away from Tad and the other Bob-Whites.

When Honey returned from dancing with Spider, Tad had left but her parents, the Beldens and the Lynches had joined the Bob-Whites at the table. She sent her parents an inquiring look and when they nodded, she asked for everyone's attention.

"Mother, Dad, Jim and I would like to invite all of you to join us in the city for New Year's," she issued the invitation in a cool tone, imitating one that her mother often used. However, all of her friends could see the excitement sparkling in her beautiful hazel eyes.

Diana jumped up and looked at her parents. "May I go?" she asked excitedly, glancing from her mother to her father. "May I, please?"

"I don't see why not," Edward Lynch answered. His daughter smiled at him and then turned and threw her arms around Mart, causing her father to grumble with annoyance, "Two years ago, that hug would have belonged to me."

Peter Belden shrugged and nodded his head in sympathy before he told his son's girlfriend, "Don't get too excited yet, Di. Mart is scheduled to work this week. He needs to talk to the editor at _The Times_ to see if he can take off. Plus, he can't go if his journalism project isn't finished."

"It's done, Dad," Mart told his father eagerly. "Plus Mr. Riordan already offered to let me have the week off. I told him I'd work since I didn't have any plans. I'm almost one hundred percent sure I'll be able to go."

"What about you, Dan?" Matthew Wheeler asked.

"I'm not working this week and I've finished all of my homework. I don't see why I can't go but I need to check with Uncle Bill and Mr. Maypenny first."

At the other end of the table, Honey turned to Trixie and hugged her. "We'll all be together. Isn't this great?"

"Great," Trixie echoed, smiling brilliantly even though her insides were churning at the thought of spending so much time with Jim and Morgan. Suddenly, she felt like throwing up. She wondered if she looked as green as she felt.

At her daughter's reply, Helen said, "Not so great. You won't be going, Trixie."

Honey's face fell and she bit her lip. "But…"

At the same time, Diana gasped in distress, "Oh, no…"

"I'm sorry, girls. Trixie promised me and her father that she would keep a 'B' average in her Algebra II class. She didn't do that this semester so she can't go. Mr. Crandall at the library has offered to tutor her. She starts tomorrow," Helen told Honey firmly.

"Mrs. Trask can tutor…" Honey started to suggest but trailed off when Helen shook her head.

"You know we've been through this before. Letting Trixie go and having someone tutor her while she's gone hasn't worked in the past and it won't work this time. I'm sorry but she can't go."

Honey and Diana stared at their best friend's mother hopelessly. If Peter Belden had made the pronouncement, they would have wheedled, cajoled and charmed him into changing his mind; however, both girls knew from experience that once Helen Belden made up her mind, she couldn't be swayed.

The male Bob-Whites had heard Helen's statement and watched as Trixie met her mother's eyes. With a sad smile, she turned toward Honey and Di, "Moms is right. I brought this on myself. I promised her and Dad that I would keep a 'B' average in math and I didn't. If I want to keep working and you know how much I love working at the police station, I have to get my math grade up."

Honey threw her arms around her best friend and whispered in a tear-soaked tone. "It won't be the same without you."

"Moms," Brian began.

"No, Brian."

"But, Moms, I could…" he tried again.

"I said no," Helen told him firmly and when he opened his mouth, she interrupted him, "I don't want to hear another word about it. She isn't going."

"Come on…" Brian started once more, gaining him a sharp look from his father.

"This discussion is over," Peter Belden told his oldest son in a tone that few had ever heard him use. "Helen, I believe the band is about to play the last song." He held out his hand and his wife took it with a somber smile. Peter tucked her hand under his arm and led her to the dance floor.

The other couples—the Wheelers, the Lynches, Jim and Morgan, and Mart and Diana—followed them, leaving Trixie, Brian, Dan and Honey standing together in an uneasy silence.

"I'm sorry, Trixie," Brian said. He still felt guilty about not telling Trixie about Jim and Morgan and had hoped to make amends by changing his mother's mind about Trixie going to the City.

Trixie shrugged. "I have no one to blame but myself." She put her arm around Honey and said with a smile, "Come on. Don't be all gloomy. You guys will have an awesome time."

Honey gave a tight-lipped smile and continued to look unhappy.

"It won't be the same without you."

As she spoke, the lights began to dim and the band began to play a slow song.

"Whoa," Dan said suddenly. "The wolves are descending."

The others looked around. Several young men including Tad Webster and his best friend, Ian Douglas, were headed for the small group. Quickly, Trixie turned to Dan and stared at him with wide eyes. Dan saw the odd look and narrowed his eyes on her face.

"What are you doing?" Dan asked Trixie suspiciously.

"I'm trying to give you that 'soulful stare' you use on all the girls so that you'll ask me to dance," she replied with a hopeful expression.

He laughed at her. "You need to work on it, Trix, because it's not working. Of course, I'd probably be immune anyway but I'll save you from the salivating hoards. Come on." He took her hand and led her through the young men to the dance floor.

Brian looked at Honey but his words were interrupted as Ian Douglas approached. Tad was no longer with him and Honey looked around for him. When she saw him walking toward the doors of the ballroom, she sighed silently. With a forced smile, she returned Ian's greeting and took his hand when he asked her dance.

When they stepped out onto the dance floor, she looked around at her friends and family. Mart and Diana were dancing so closely together that she thought one of the firemen might turn a hose on them. Dan was holding Trixie closely but respectfully as he whispered in her ear, making her laugh. She wondered if Trixie realized how Dan kept her turned away from where Jim and Morgan swayed to the music together. _Probably, _she thought.

As she danced slowly with Ian, Honey thought about the evening's events. All in all, everything had gone well and she knew that she should be happy—but she wasn't. She was miserable. She had made two Christmas wishes this year. First, she had wished that she and Trixie would spend New Year's Eve in the City with the rest of the Bob-Whites and second, she had wished that Tad Webster would ask her to dance. Neither wish had come true.


	11. Chapter 11: Getting Ready

_**Chapter Eleven: Getting Ready **_

Helen Belden opened the door and slipped into her only daughter's bedroom. As she looked around at the clothes strewn about the room, she wondered ambivalently if Trixie had regressed to her messy self. Silently sighing, she shook her head and leaned down to pick up a denim skirt that had been thrown carelessly on the hardwood floor. _'You wanted her to get back to normal.'_

Across the room, Trixie echoed her sigh, drawing Helen's attention to her child. The teenager was standing in front of a full length mirror mounted on the outside of her closet door. Disgust and disgruntlement danced across her expressive face as she pulled at the neck of the dress she was wearing.

"Oh, woe! I look awful! This dress makes me look frumpy," Trixie moaned.

"It makes you look frumpy because it's at least a size too big," Helen returned mildly, crossing to her daughter's closet and removing out a lovely_,_ red dress. "Try this one on."

"This is my favorite dress and it fits fine," the young woman replied grumpily and refused to take the dress her mother held out to her. Instead, she turned back to the mirror and made dissatisfied faces at her reflection.

Helen exhaled audibly before she reminded her daughter, "You're the one who said it made you look frumpy."

"Well, it does."

"You've lost weight and toned up since you started exercising and running," Helen said patiently. "This is the dress I bought you for Christmas. Honey and Di picked it out. You'll like it if you try it on."

A look of pure displeasure settled on Trixie's face. Petulantly, she asked her mother, "Why are you doing this to me? Do you hate me?"

"It amazes me, Trixie," Helen replied, picking up a blouse and placing it on a clothes hanger as she spoke, "that I can go from being the best mother in the whole world—your words, I believe—to hating you in a couple of days."

Guilt replaced the bad temper displayed on Trixie's face. With a flurry of movement, she rushed across the room and threw her arms around her mother, embracing her tightly. "I'm sorry, Moms. You _are_ the best mom in the world. I would have been miserable if I'd gone to the City with the rest of the Bob-Whites. It was inspired how you used my math grade to get me out of going. You lied for me."

As she folded up clothes that Trixie had tossed on the floor in her search for something to wear, Helen thought back to the week before. When the Wheelers had invited Trixie and the rest of the Bob-Whites to New York City for New Years Eve, Trixie had acted excited but Helen had seen the tension and anxiety that she hid from everyone else.

Jim's defection had hit Trixie hard. At least the cruel way she had discovered that he was dating someone else had given her the time she needed to grieve in private and figure out how to deal with her sorrow. Her brother and her friends had been puzzled by her despondency, her loss of appetite and her sudden need for solitude but by the time they had learned what had happened, Trixie had been able to deal with her feelings without dissolving into tears.

What her daughter wasn't prepared to do was spend the weekend in the city with the boy who had broken her heart—especially if _his new girlfriend_ was going to be there also.

Helen looked at Trixie reproachfully and corrected her, "I didn't lie for you. You are being punished and Mr. Crandall is tutoring you." Her blue eyes were serious and her voice firm. "Let me make this perfectly clear, Trixie. I am not happy about your math grade. However, I think that what happened this fall with Jim had something to do with it."

With a sniff, Trixie pulled away from her mother. Tears welled in her eyes but she resolutely dashed them away. "I'm trying so hard to be okay, Moms, and to make it okay for everyone else but..." She paused for a moment before she finished in soft voice, "I would have died if I'd had to be around them."

Helen smiled sentimentally. 'I would have died' had always been one of Trixie's favorite expressions but she no longer said it the way she used to. The melodrama was missing from her voice. Her words were serious and solemn.

"I know, dear," Helen said as she sat on Trixie's bed. She was thankful that she and Trixie had a close relationship and that her daughter could express her emotions—emotions that she was determined to hide from everyone else—with her. Taking her daughter's hand, she urged her to sit down beside her.

"Will it ever be the same? I want to us to be friends but…" Trixie trailed off despondently, plopping down next to her mom on top of the pile of clothes that Helen had just folded. Resting her head on her mother's shoulder, she asked quietly, "Will I ever be able to be around him without feeling so awful?"

"I don't know," Helen answered truthfully, placing a comforting arm around her daughter's shoulders and resting her head against Trixie's. Their hair was the same color and had the same soft curls. "What I do know is that you need to get ready for this party. If you don't hurry, we're all going to be late."

In a wheedling tone, Trixie asked, "Can't I stay home, Moms?" She sat up and turned to meet her mother's eyes—eyes that were the same crystal blue as hers.

Helen shook her head unsympathetically. "You know that your father and I have to go to the Ellingtons' party. As president of the bank, your father can't refuse an invitation from one of the bank's board members. Bobby is at the Lynches and I don't want you to be alone on New Year's Eve."

"I hate Daddy's new job," Trixie complained before qualifying her statement. "No, I don't mean that. Dad really deserved the promotion but people have been so weird about it. Did I tell you that a bunch of kids from school and I got into a snowball in the library courtyard yesterday?" The young woman's face was suddenly full of exasperation and outrage as she continued the story, "Mrs. Van Duerson yelled at us and told me that she would have expected better of a Martin. I told her that I'm not a Martin, I'm a Belden. Do you know what she said next, Moms?"

Helen shook her head and tried to suppress a smile at her daughter's indignation.

"She said that she was happy that Daddy has shown everyone that you did not marry below yourself and that she expected you to take your rightful place in Sleepyside society! She's such a snob! That whole country club set is. At the Christmas Ball, everyone kept asking me when you and daddy were going to join the club. Promise me you won't become one of those condescending elitists!"

"Condescending elitists? You sound like Mart," Helen laughed before she reminded her daughter, "Your best friends' parents are members of the country club set."

Trixie's lips thinned as she remembered how Mrs. Wheeler had encouraged Jim to date Morgan—a girl who was obviously a member of the Wheelers' social circle. Absently, she twirled a strand of blonde hair around a finger.

Frowning, Helen studied her daughter's faraway expression. "Trixie?" she said, trying to get her child's attention. "Is something wrong?"

Letting go of the twisted lock of hair, Trixie shook her head and prevaricated, "No, Moms. I was just thinking how awful it would be to have to go to all over those dumb parties..."

"Don't worry. Your father feels the same way about those 'dumb parties'. He will resist the pressure to join the country club as long as he can."

"Thank goodness. No fancy, boring country club parties for me!"

"True," her mother smiled. "It's Jake Ryan's party for you!"

Trixie groaned and fell back on the bed.

"It's not going to kill you to do something without the rest of the Bob-Whites. You know, they might not always be around."

"I know, Moms," the young blonde acknowledged sadly because she hated imagining a day that she and the Bob-Whites wouldn't be together.

Helen sighed but remained silent. She knew that childhood dreams didn't always come true—that sometimes the only things that remained were faded memories. However, when Helen looked at her headstrong, beautiful daughter, she knew that she wouldn't trade her life with Peter for all of her childhood dreams. She hoped that Trixie would feel the same way about her life one day.

In the meantime, Helen watched the wheels turn in Trixie's mind as her precocious child searched for a way to change her mind about Jake's party.

"If I'm grounded, I shouldn't…" Trixie started again, determined to get out going to the New Year's Eve party being thrown by a classmate.

"It's not going to work, Beatrix Alicia Belden. Consider Jake's party part of your punishment."

Helen stood up and handed her daughter the red dress she had taken out of the closet a few minutes earlier. "Put this on. You're going to look great. When you're finished, come into my bedroom and I'll help you with your hair and make-up."

"I'm going to miserable," Trixie promised her mother as she stood up, walked over to the mirror and held the dress in front of her.

Helen paused at the door and looked over at her daughter's mutinous face. "Trixie, you were the belle of the Christmas Ball and you had a wonderful time. There's no reason that you can't have a good time at Jake's party."

"It's not the same," Trixie said, her tone flat. "I had to have a good time at the Christmas Ball. If I hadn't, they would have known..." She trailed off and wandered over to stare out the window.

"Maybe you shouldn't try to hide..."

"No, Moms," she said, determination adding an edge to her voice. "It has to be this way."

With a sigh, Helen tucked a loose curl behind her ear and stared sadly at her daughter. "Baby, it might be easier if you confided in Honey or Di."

Trixie shook her head. "I can't, Moms. Jim is Honey's brother and Di...well, Di would tell Mart who'd tell Dan. I don't want what happened between me and Jim to affect the boys' friendship with Jim. It wouldn't be right." With a glance at her mother, she continued, "Besides I can talk to you."

Helen smiled, rolled her eyes and let out a fake groan of annoyance. "Great. I get to share the misery."

Trixie bit her lip to stop a giggle. "That's what moms are for, isn't it?"

Wrinkling her nose at her daughter, she agreed, "I guess so." Then, she added wickedly, "That and forcing their poor daughters to go to the teenage social event of the year."

As Helen left the room, she heard Trixie sigh pathetically. Undeterred, she walked briskly down the hall and entered her bedroom.

* * *

Less than two miles away, the youngest Belden sat quietly with his best friends, Terry and Larry Lynch. For once, there was no blue-ray disc blasting car chases and explosions on the sixty-inch, high definition television set. The stereo was not blaring out a bass beat that rocked the walls and floor and both the X-Box and the Wii were turned off. The three boys were solemn as Bobby called the top-secret meeting to order.

Like Trixie and Mart, he favored his mother. His skin was fair, his curls were sandy blond and his eyes, large and blue. He was a born leader—intelligent, imaginative and fearless. Tonight he had terrible news to share with his friends.

The thought had first come to him several weeks ago and he had said it as a joke during a conversation with his parents. However, as the last couple weeks had passed, the idea had morphed into a nagging suspicion that had to be investigated. As he searched for clues, the signs that aliens had invaded Sleepyside had become glaringly apparent. Staring at his notebook, he reviewed his notes one more time.

"It's bad, guys," he told his friends, his voice serious.

Larry and Terry Lynch stared at him, their almost-identical faces mirroring their concern.

"How bad?" Terry demanded. He was the oldest twin and more loquacious than his younger twin. The male Lynch twins had the same coloring as their older sister. Their hair was so dark that it appeared black and their eyes were an odd violet color. The only difference in their faces was their noses. Terry had taken a hockey putt to his last winter and the break had left it crooked.

Bobby wet his lips and met Terry's eyes. "The town has been invaded by aliens and...they've taken control of Trixie."

"Oh, no..." Terry moaned, collapsing onto the floor with dread. "Not Trixie."

Although they didn't want her to know it, the three boys idolized Trixie. They reveled in the stories of her escapades, dreaming of the day when they were old enough to join in her adventures. The thought that she had been she had been infected terrified all three of them, especially the Lynch brothers.

"Are you sure, Bobby?" Larry asked his best friend, his violet eyes flashing in his handsome, young face. Larry was the younger twin. He was usually quieter and more introspective than his older sibling. He also had deep feelings for Trixie—feelings that he had never shared with his brother or their best friend. When Larry grew up, he was going to marry Trixie and they were going to be secret agents, travelling the world and fighting crime together.

"'Fraid so," the other boy said, his voice firm with conviction. "I've seen a lot of signs." Quickly, he ran down the changes he had seen in Trixie over the last couple of months. "She doesn't eat anymore."

"Di doesn't eat either," Terry replied, hope making his voice sound higher. "She's always dieting. Maybe Trixie is on a diet..."

"This is my sister we're talking about, Terry," Bobby said sharply and when Terry reluctantly nodded in agreement, the blond continued his list. "She used to go off with Honey and Di all the time. Now she goes off by herself. She says she's running but I think that's when she contacts them."

"That sounds bad," the older twin agreed.

"She cleans her room and finishes her chores without being told."

The other boys groaned in horror.

"She does her homework and..." Bobby trailed off, intentionally letting his friends' tension build. "She's doing extra math work."

Larry's shoulders slumped. He didn't like what he was hearing.

"She never fights with Mart anymore and she didn't get upset about Jim's girlfriend."

"I don't know, Bobby. It sounds pretty bad but..." Larry trailed off when Bobby held up a hand.

"That's not the worst of it," the blond boy said. He looked around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping on their conversation and then lowered his voice to deliver the coup d'etat. "She grooms."

"Grooms?" Terry asked, confused. "What do you mean she grooms?"

Larry cuffed his older sibling in the side of the head. "She stays in the bathroom all the time, brushing her hair and washing her face."

Bobby nodded and added, "She's always wearing ironed, clean clothes and I've seen her put on eye shadow. The other day..." Once again, Bobby let the tension build. "Her headband matched her sweat suit and her socks. It was disgusting."

Terry shook his head in disbelief while Larry covered his face in revulsion.

Finally, Terry spoke. His voice only betrayed a smidgeon of fear as he speculated, "It could be government-controlled clones or robots."

"That's true," Bobby admitted thoughtfully, scribbling his friend's suggestion in his notebook. "We should investigate all three possibilities. That's what Trixie..." The blond boy trailed off and took a deep breath before he continued. "That's what the real Trixie would do."

* * *

Closing the bedroom door behind her, Helen looked around the room. Peter stood in front of the dresser, placing his tie around his neck. Dressed in black tuxedo pants and a white button-up shirt, he looked over at her and smiled. After twenty-three years, he could still make her bones melt with just a glance.

"Is Trixie excited about going to that party?" he asked as he turned toward her and she took the ends of his tie out of his hands. His brown eyes sparked with humor as he waited for her answer. His daughter's contempt for social events was only exceeded only by her love of mysteries.

Helen's hands moved deftly, tying the knot as she had done hundreds of times before. When she was finished, she looked up at him and replied sarcastically. "Thrilled to death."

Although he had anticipated her response, Peter frowned. He hated for Trixie to be unhappy. She was his princess, his sweet pea and the idea that she was miserable and hurting killed him. "Helen, she's been through so much since October. If she doesn't want to go…"

Laying her fingers across his lips, she silenced him. "Peter, Trixie needs to get out. She is struggling with self-esteem issues. She's always thought that she's not smart enough or pretty enough. What happened with Jim reinforced those beliefs. Going to Jake's party will help her build confidence."

Peter snorted. "How is going to a party and being miserable going to do that?"

Helen smiled at him. "When Jake Ryan saw her with me at the grocery store yesterday, his whole face lit up. I thought he was going to jump for joy when I said she could go to his party."

She turned, opened the top dresser drawer and removed her under garments. As she crossed to the closet, Peter sat heavily down on their bed.

"Jump for joy, you say?" he asked with an odd edge to his voice.

"He was definitely excited."

"Jake Ryan? Isn't he John and Annabeth's son? The one who only dates cheerleaders?" He groaned and lay back on the bed. "Even I know that Jake Ryan is a player, Helen. I don't want Trixie to get hurt again. Maybe we should all stay home…"

Removing a navy blue, sequined sheath from a garment bag hanging in the closet, Helen replied before she went into the bathroom to change.

"She's going, Peter," Helen stated firmly. "You have to accept that she's a normal teenage girl who is going to get her heart broken." She turned and walked toward the bathroom door. Looking over her shoulder, she continued seriously. "And you, my love, are a normal teenage girl's father. You're going to have to pick up the pieces every time it happens."

"Thanks for reminding me," he grumbled. When Helen was out of the room, he added under his breath, "We should have quit having kids after Mart."

"You don't mean that," Helen called from the bathroom.

He snorted in rueful delight and wondered how she had heard him. Several weeks ago, Bobby had approached him with the idea that Helen had bugged the entire house and was violating her children's civil rights by listening in on all of their conversations. Perhaps his little conspiracy theorist was right.

Peter was still lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, when Helen came out of the bathroom.

She crossed to him and asked, a little self-consciously, "What do you think?"

As he sat up, his eyes caressed her face and frame lovingly. He smiled that slow, masculine smile of appreciation that she had fallen in love so many years before. Then, he whispered, "Wow."

Narrowing her eyes, Helen reminded him, "That's what you said this morning when I was wearing those grubby sweats."

Peter stood and pulled her into his arms. For a moment, he buried his face in her blonde hair, reveling in its clean, fresh smell. "I meant it this morning and I mean it now." He pulled back and gazed into her dancing, blue eyes. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world."

Raising a golden brow, Helen murmured sardonically, "Uh huh."

"Let's stay home," he whispered before he leaned toward her and began nuzzling the side of her neck. He'd much rather stay home with his beautiful wife than spend the evening with a bunch of the bank's stuffy, self-important board members.

Helen laughed and pulled away from her husband's marauding lips. "No way, slick. We're going out and so is our daughter."

He grunted and released her. His voice was disgruntled when he told her, "I don't want to go to the Ellingtons' party and Trixie…."

Biting her lip, Helen tried to contain her smile as she cut him off, "You and Trixie are two peas in a pod. She may look like me but she definitely has your personality."

In a magical moment, her words struck home and they stared at each other in silence, marveling at the child that they had made, the child who embodied both of them. Then, loud footsteps in the hallway interrupted their thoughts.

"Here comes our angel now…" Peter smiled at Helen and then, told Trixie to enter when she knocked on the door.

She was wearing the red cocktail dress that Helen had bought her for Christmas. As her mother had predicted, the dress flattered Trixie's figure. It was made of chiffon and had a halter top with wide straps. The dress gently flared from the bust down. With its A-line silhouette, the princess lines of the gown were created with vertical panels, letting the soft fabric skim Trixie's curves rather than cling to them. Red, strappy high-heeled shoes completed the outfit.

"You look lovely, dear," Helen told her obviously-unhappy daughter. With an approving smile, she turned back toward the bathroom and motioned for Trixie to follow her. "Let's fix your hair and put a bit of make-up on."

"It won't stay on, Moms," Trixie warned her mother. "I'll chew the lipstick right off."

"I've got this amazing new lip stain. It'll stay on," Helen returned right before she disappeared through the bathroom door.

"Lovely," the teenager retorted facetiously.

Trixie slowly clomped across her parents' bedroom, pausing to ask her father in a low voice, "Can't you get me out of this?"

He grinned and responded in a conspiratorial tone, "I can't even get me out of this."

Reluctantly, Trixie smiled. Her eyes sparkled as she whispered back, "I guess it's a good thing that I have a plan."

Peter Belden groaned and fell back on the bed again. Trixie had a plan.


	12. Chapter 12: The New Year's Eve Party

**Author's Note: **This summer has been crazy and last week was no different. On the way to work on Tuesday, I was involved in a car crash. Another driver hit me and the back of my car is smashed. I've had a headache and sore neck ever since the accident. I apologize if you reviewed Chapter Eleven and I didn't respond. Honestly, I haven't felt like writing and looking at the computer screen makes my head throb. Luckily, Chapter Twelve was finished. I'll try to get Chapter Thirteen up on time but I can't make any promises. Sorry... :(

_**Chapter Twelve: The New Year's Eve Party**_

Dylan MacLauter glanced around the New Year's Eve party with interest. He was the new kid in town and his acclimation into Sleepyside Senior High School had gone relatively smoothly considering how unhappy he was. Two weeks ago, his parents had dumped him at his grandparents' house without a second thought. This was his senior year in high school—a time when he was supposed to be building memories and solidifying friendships that would last him a lifetime. Instead, he was stuck in small town USA, longing for his old friends while he tried to make new ones.

His eyes narrowed as he remembered eavesdropping on a conversation between his mother and his grandmother. His mother had assured his grandmother that he wouldn't have any problems changing high schools in the middle of his senior year. After all, she had told her mother, he was a child and children were resilient and adaptable.

'_Resilient and adaptable,' _he thought angrily to himself as he stood with a group of athletes at Jake Ryan's New Year's Eve Party. '_I'll show them resilient and adaptable.'_

The kids that he had met at Sleepyside Senior High were okay. The boys that he was standing with—Tad Webster, Joe Taylor, Tim Walton and Ian Douglas—had went out of their way to welcome him, showing him around town, introducing him to their friends, and making sure that he was invited to all of the right holiday parties. However, at the moment, the party was exacerbating the anger he felt at his parents. It was New Year's Eve. He should be with his friends, not at some party with kids he barely knew. Even in the crowd, he felt alone and isolated. Glancing at the dancing couples, he decided that he would rather dance than make conversation. He was glancing around for one of the cheerleaders that Jake Ryan had introduced him to earlier when he saw her.

Something about her intrigued him. She seemed different than the other girls he had met since he moved to Sleepyside. Perhaps it was the way she moved through the room. Engrossed, Dylan watched as she made her way through the crowd, nodding and smiling at the other teenagers she passed. She wasn't exactly graceful but the fluidity of movement made her seem purposeful.

Every so many feet someone would stop her. She would listen attentively, nod and smile or laugh and then move on. Finally, she reached the refreshment table that Jake's parents had set up in the corner of their basement recreation room. Picking up a paper cup, she took a sip of the punch, made a horrible face and tossed it in the trash.

Dylan smiled. She had tasted the rum that Tim Walton had poured in the punch bowl when Mrs. Ryan wasn't looking. With interest, he continued to watch her. She knelt by the cooler, flipped open the lid and sorted through the drinks. Finally, she pulled out a strawberry soda. Standing up, she sat the drink on the table and wiped her hands on a napkin. Then, she picked up the soda, opened the tab and took a drink. Her throat was long and slender.

She walked over to the back wall, leaning against it so that she could watch the other partygoers. As she inspected the room, Dylan scrutinized her face. Her shoulder-length hair was layered so that messy curls framed her face. She was fair, her complexion dusted by freckles, and she wore little make-up.

Her lips were full but not in that bee-stung way that so many girls coveted today. White teeth flashed in a welcoming smile when two other girls walked up to her. From across the room, Dylan wondered what color her eyes were. Finally, he decided that it didn't really matter because it wasn't her looks that drew him to her.

This girl wasn't beautiful. At most, she was pretty. Like most boys his age, he liked beautiful girls and he had met several of them since he had arrived in Sleepyside. However, none of them had her…presence. That was it. She had presence.

Dylan turned his attention back to the crowd of boys with whom he was standing. He noticed that their numbers had grown while he had watched the girl. With a nod of his head, Dylan motioned toward her and asked, "Who's the cute blonde with Patty and Jane?"

The boys surrounding him were eager to give their new friend the lowdown on their classmates. For a moment, they searched the crowd. Then, Tim Walton answered, "That's Trixie Belden, Mart Belden's kid sister. I think he's in a couple of your classes."

Dylan nodded. He had met Mart Belden in the office the day that his grandmother had enrolled him in Sleepyside Senior High School. Mart was in his Journalism and Calculus classes and he liked to talk. His insightful, witty commentary on life in Sleepyside had been amusing. Tilting his head thoughtfully, Dylan tried to recall what Mart had said about his younger sister.

"The one he calls the school girl shamus?"

The other boys laughed, some good-naturedly while others' chuckles seemed snide.

"He and Dan Mangan are the only one who can get away with calling her that," Ian Douglas informed him.

"Her ex-boyfriend used to call her that, too, but he dumped her at Thanksgiving for some hot coed," Greg Alden added maliciously as he walked by the group.

"Trixie's okay," Tad stated softly as his narrowed eyes followed Alden. "She deserves someone better than Jim Frayne anyway."

"Yeah. She deserves you," Ian Douglas, one of the Tad's closest friends, joked.

Unfortunately, the jest fell flat and the other boys shifted uncomfortably. Dylan looked at Tad but the boy was staring longingly at Trixie, his eyes focused intently on her.

"You gonna ask her out?" Dylan asked, his gaze once again resting on Trixie.

When Tad didn't respond, Ian shrugged and one of the other boys on the basketball team sneered, "Are you kidding? He's afraid of her."

"Hell, most of the guys in school are afraid of her," Ian defended his friend. "And if they aren't afraid of Trixie, they're afraid of Mangan."

"Mangan?"

"Dan. Dan Mangan. He's Mart's best friend. He was in a gang in the City before he moved here. He's a real bad ass and Trixie is like a sister to him. He'd beat the crap out of anyone who messed with her."

"Mangan?" Dylan mused. "I think I have physics with him. He's the one who is interested in forensic science—wants to be a cop or something. He's got black hair and soulful eyes that have all the girls falling out of their chairs when he talks to them."

Joe Taylor snorted at Dylan's statement but acknowledged its truth. "Yeah, that's him but I don't think he's the problem. It's Trixie. She's as scary as hell. From what Ian said, Tad couldn't gather enough courage to ask her to dance at the Christmas Ball. He ended up chatting up her best friend, Honey Wheeler."

"Give it a rest," Tad told his tormentor and then, with one last glance at the sandy-haired teenager, he sighed silently. When he looked back at Dylan, his ears were slightly red. "When I first met her, I thought she was nosy—a real pain in the ass but I was an immature jerk back then and I was in a lot of trouble. If it hadn't been for Trixie, things could have turned out badly for me."

"Well, she doesn't look that scary," Dylan said thoughtfully as he stared at cute girl standing in the corner, talking to her friends.

"Scary doesn't scratch the surface," Ian Douglas laughed.

With a wry smile, Tad admitted, "She has an incredible talent for finding trouble."

"Finding trouble, huh?" _Now that might be fun_, Dylan thought, a hint of cold smile touching his lips as he studied the girl.

"She doesn't find trouble. She solves mysteries," Jake Ryan said as he joined them. With a grin, he added, "The new chief of police hired her just so that he could keep tabs on her. He doesn't want her to solve all of the local crime before his detectives do."

"That's not it. Molinson is afraid that the town council will realize that they should have hired Trixie instead of him. I can see the headlines now. 'School Girl Shamus Named Sheriff.'" Joe Taylor snickered, any malice in the statement directed at the police chief rather than Trixie.

At his words, loud guffaws burst out of the other teenagers in the circle. When their laughter died down, Tad took a big gulp of punch and squared his shoulders.

"Here goes nothing," he told his friends after he took a deep, fortifying breath.

When he turned and started toward the three girls standing against the back wall, Joe nudged Jake, "He's going ask to Trixie out."

Jake swore under his breath.

Joe pushed Jake toward the girls and urged him, "Go with him!"

With a thoughtful nod, as the other boys watched, Jake followed Tad across the room.

Dylan straightened, his eyes once again focused on the girl standing against the wall, sipping soda from a can. Unlike the other girls with her, she didn't smooth her hair or straighten her clothes as Jake and Tad approached. She remained at ease and relaxed.

_So Trixie Belden is good at finding trouble and solving mysteries, _Dylan mused, his eyes narrowed as he watched the cute blonde. _Maybe someone needs to convince her that getting in trouble is more fun…_

* * *

Trixie made her way through the crowd of celebrating teenagers. Usually, when she went to parties, the rest of the Bob-Whites were with her but even then, she didn't like this type of get-together. This one was worse because she was on her own. She wished that her mother hadn't insisted that she come when Jake had invited her at the grocery store.

Putting on a brave face, she smiled and greeted her classmates as she made her way across the room. When she got to the refreshment table, she picked up a cup of punch. Absent-mindedly, she took a sip and immediately tasted alcohol. Making a face, she tossed the cup in the trash, knelt down and looked into the cooler. All of the bottled water was gone so she picked up a strawberry soda. Trixie stood up and wiped her hands before she popped the top and took a long drink. Then she walked over to the back wall and leaned against it. With detachment, she watched the dancing, laughing throng.

Scanning the crowd, Trixie saw Jane Morgan and Patty Morris approaching her. In their freshmen year, one of her best friends, Diana Lynch, had been cast as Juliet in the school play. Angry and disappointed because she hadn't gotten the lead, Jane had taken one of the dresses Diana was supposed to wear in the play and anonymously blamed Diana for stealing it. Trixie had figured it out and confronted Jane who had genuinely regretted her actions. When the two girls and Honey tried to return the dress, they had learned that a con man was blackmailing their teacher. With their help, the police had apprehended the evil man. During the incident, Trixie and Jane had bonded and all of the girls had become friends.

Although Trixie was glad to see Jane and Patty, she didn't feel like socializing. However, her mother had drilled manners into her so she smiled and welcomed them, "Happy New Year!"

"You, too!" Jane replied as she embraced Trixie. She stepped back so that Patty could hug their sandy-haired friend and continued, gesturing over her shoulder to the television, "I didn't expect to see you! I thought you and the rest of the Bob-Whites were going to the City."

Trixie looked at the huge television mounted on the wall of the recreation room. The scene at Time Square where thousands of people were waiting to watch the ball drop flashed across the screen.

With a shrug, Trixie replied, "I wanted to go but I'm being punished. Moms was not pleased with my math grade."

Both girls nodded. Trixie's aversion to math was well known among her peers at Sleepyside Senior High School.

"Well, at least she let you come to Jake's party," Jane said, looking on the bright side.

The blue-eyed blonde smiled impishly, "Yeah, it's part of my punishment."

"Trixie!" Jane gasped, shocked. She loved parties and couldn't imagine why anyone would consider going to one a punishment—especially one of Jake Ryan's parties. "This is the party of the year! We were really lucky to be invited!"

"You know me, Jane," Trixie laughed. "I'm not a social butterfly. Things like this make me uncomfortable. I'm lost without Honey and Di."

Patty nodded understandingly. More introverted than Jane, she wouldn't have come if her best friend hadn't accepted Jake's invitation. "Well, we can brave the shark-infested waters of this party together."

Jane sighed and looked at the crowd before she replied. "You mean, cheerleader-infested waters, don't you?"

"Well, it is Jake's party," Patty giggled. Jake Ryan was known for dating cheerleaders and Jane and Trixie laughed in agreement.

"Forget about the cheerleaders," Jane said as turned to focus on Trixie. "Have you met the new guy?"

"He's so cute," Patty added with a sigh.

"New guy?" Trixie asked, puzzled. She didn't remember seeing anyone new at school before Christmas break began.

"He's a senior," Patty answered.

"His name is Dylan and he's got these amazing hazel eyes," Jane added.

"Oh," Trixie said, vaguely remembering a comment her brother had made about a new senior. "I think Mart told me about him. Is he the one who is living with his grandparents while his parents are overseas?"

"Uh huh," Jane verified and then, went on despondently. "He is really hot but there is no way he's going to notice me."

"Then, that's his loss," Trixie answered.

"Definitely his loss," Patty declared loyally.

Jane rolled her eyes at the other girls. "You two are taking loyalty a bit far."

"Jane," Trixie responded seriously, "You are really nice and I have it on good authority that guys think you're pretty."

"Dan?" both girls sighed dramatically before Jane added, "Forget the new guy. Give me Dan Mangan any day."

Trixie laughed. Even though she loved Dan like a brother, she had to admit he was good-looking. Sought after by even the most popular girls in high school, Dan never lacked a date. Trixie would bet that there wasn't a girl in school who refuse to go out with him…except Honey, Di and herself. The idea of dating Dan seemed incestuous to them.

"Speaking of looking pretty…" Patty said. "Trixie, you look great!"

The teenager tilted her head and gave Patty a look of disbelief.

"She's right, Trixie," Jane insisted when she saw the incredulous look on her friend's face. "You've always been kind of pretty but you look like you've had one of those television make-over."

"Moms did my hair and make-up for the party and she bought me this dress for Christmas. Of course, Honey and Di helped her pick it out," Trixie said, looking down at the new outfit she was wearing. With a grimace, she lifted a foot to show the other girls her new high heels. "What do you think of my shoes? Aren't they ridiculous? I swear I feel like a clown at a circus tottering around on stilts."

Jane and Patty laughed.

"They're great shoes," Patty complimented Trixie and then giggled, "I want to see you totter around."

"Have you been working out?" Jane asked, staring at the blonde appraisingly. "You're slimmer. Kind of lithe looking."

Trixie gave a long-suffering sigh. "I've been running and Honey and Di have been torturing me with Pilates and step aerobics."

"Well, it's paying off. You look…" Patty started to compliment Trixie but broke off when she saw Tad Webster and Jake Ryan walking toward them. "Hey, here come Tad and Jake!" Self-consciously, she smoothed her dress.

At her friend's words, Jane wet her lips and patted her hair. Trixie, on the other hand, was imperturbable. Calmly, she took another sip of her soda and greeted the boys, "Hi, Tad. Hi, Jake. Great party."

"It is now that you're here, Trix," Jake replied suavely.

"Oh, you're smooth, Ryan," Trixie rolled her eyes, thinking to herself that Jake was such a player.

"What are you girls gabbing about?" Tad asked, leaning one shoulder against the wall.

His body was angled toward Trixie's smaller frame.

"I was telling Jane and Patty that Honey and Di are slave drivers," Trixie answered with a smile, focusing on Tad as she answered his question. "Chief Molinson had me take that self-defense class at the police department in October. Did Spider tell you about it? He was one of the instructors."

When Tad shook his head, Trixie continued, "As my dear brother would say, it was a debacle. Your brother had a blast tossing me over his shoulder and pinning me to the mat. I decided then and there that I needed to start working out so Honey and Di have been torturing me with Pilates and step aerobics."

"Maybe you should try strength training," Jake suggested, trying to ease himself into Trixie and Tad's conversation.

The other boy's comment gave Tad an idea that allowed him to regain Trixie's undivided attention.

"Trix, why don't you come down to the Youth Center? When there's not a game, I work every day from four to seven. I'll give you some pointers," Tad offered. "Then the next time Molinson makes you take a self-defense class you can toss my brother on his ass."

"Are you serious, Tad?" Trixie asked, her blue eyes shining with excitement. Her enthusiasm was almost palpable. "That would be great! I tried to get Mart and Dan to go to the Youth Center with me to work out but they refused."

"No problem," Tad said.

Impulsively, Trixie reached out and hugged him. Then, as she pulled away from the embrace, she thanked him and confessed, "You don't know how much I hate Pilates."

Just then, a new song came on, blaring out of the speakers with a peppy beat that had the dancers cheering.

"Come on, Trix. Dancing's also good exercise," Jake invited, stepping between Trixie and the other boy. He gestured at the spinning, gyrating teenagers "How about giving it a go?"

Trixie shook her head mournfully. "Look," she said as she lifted her foot so that Jake could see the red strappy sandals with three inch heels.

"Cool shoes," Jake murmured but his attention, like Tad's, was caught by her red-tipped toes, slim feet and well-defined legs.

Trixie rolled her eyes and asked, "Can you imagine the damage I could do with these? Not only to you but myself? Everyone here knows that I am not the personification of grace."

Immediately, Patty came to her defense, "Trixie, you're much more graceful than you used to be."

Laughing, Trixie disagreed, "I wish." Then, with an encouragingly smile, she looked at the boys, "But you're right about the music, Jake. It's great. You all should go dance."

Her words and the enthusiastic, expectant looks on Jane and Patty's faces made it impossible for the boys to refuse. With smooth smiles, Tad and Jake led Jane and Patty out into the middle of the room as Trixie leaned back against the wall and took another drink of soda.

"Alone at last," she said with a slight smile.

"Not quite." A low, masculine voice taunted softly.


	13. Chapter 13: Midnight

**Author's Note: **I'd like to thank everyone for being so patient and to apologize for not responding to reviews or reviewing other TBFF author's stories. I know how important that is. Unfortunately, I'm still experiencing daily headaches. They're not as bad as they were but I still can't look at a computer screen for a significant period time without paying dearly for it. This chapter has not been edited by a beta or proofread as obsessively as usual so I hope it's not full of typographical and spelling errors. Anyway, I hope you enjoy "Midnight."

**Chapter Thirteen: Midnight**

Trixie turned her head to look at the boy intruding on her solitude. He was standing about three feet away from her, his shoulders resting against the back wall. Dressed in a dark gray suit with a black shirt and striped tie, he looked like he was from Beverly Hills. He was trim and lean and his clothes fit his frame well.

Slightly disheveled, his light brown hair was longer than most of the boys in the room, styled in the way made famous by Zac Efron and Robert Pattison. Messy and kind of windswept. He had a golden tan. His eyes were hazel, his nose straight and his chin well-defined. Something about him reminded Trixie of the boys in Di's _American Eagle_ or _Aeropostale_ catalogs. Since she had never seen him before, she assumed he was the new senior that her friends had been mentioned earlier.

'_Jane and Patty are right. The new boy _is_ good looking but he's not really my type,'_ Trixie thought with detachment as she studied the newcomer. '_His eyes aren't green and his hair doesn't have any warm red tones…'_ Biting the inside of her cheek, Trixie reined in her runaway thoughts, realizing with annoyance that she had instinctively compared him to Jim.

"You're Trixie Belden, right? Mart Belden's younger sister?" he asked, his voice was smooth and warm.

Trixie's blue eyes narrowed, trying to read the young man beside her. Then, she remembered how often her first impressions had led her astray in the past. She was not going to jump to conclusions about him.

"Yes," she replied, turning toward him. "You're the new guy? From Beverly Hills?"

"Close enough," he responded. "I'm Dylan McLauter." As he introduced himself, his eyes raked over her.

Uncomfortable, Trixie shifted. "The music's great," she said, making small talk as she tried to think of a way to get rid of him.

Dylan's mouth quirked and laughter lit his eyes. "Great. Perfect for dancing." He paused, and then added sardonically, "If you're wearing the right shoes…"

Grimacing, Trixie asked, "You heard us?"

"Yeah."

When Trixie opened her mouth to respond, Dylan held up a hand. "Don't worry. There's no way I'm going to ask you to dance. You convinced me that you and those shoes are a deadly combination." He paused and gave her a speculative look before he continued, "So why you'd wear them to what everyone is calling the party of the year?"

"A girl's gotta be in style." Trixie responded nonchalantly.

Dylan looked skeptical. "You don't strike me as the kind of girl who worries about what the fashion magazines say."

Raising a sandy brow, Trixie asked, "Are you saying that I'm not…"

He cut her off. "Not at all. I'm saying that I don't think you're the type of girl who cares what everyone else thinks." Dylan paused and then continued in a dry tone, "And you shouldn't think that I'm the kind of guy who's easily played for a fool. I'm not going to let you pick a fight with me so you can stomp off."

Their eyes met and held, both of their gazes considering.

"So what's with the shoes, Trixie Belden?"

"I didn't want to come," she admitted with a sigh.

"So you don't like Jake?" he asked, feeling her out.

Somewhat aghast, Trixie shook her head vehemently, her soft, blonde curls dancing around her face. "No! Jake's nice and all. I just don't know him that well. We don't hang out with the same crowd. Jake's friends are mostly football players and cheerleaders." Trixie shrugged her shoulders and gave up trying to explain.

The young man turned toward the dancing throng. With an appreciative grin, he admitted, "Yeah, I think he's introduced me to every cheerleader in town. Still, I got the impression that you and he were friends."

"Well, we're not enemies but I wouldn't say we're friends either—more like friendly acquaintances," the blonde girl returned, glancing over at where Jake was dancing with Jane.

"So you're not interested in him?"

Trixie smothered a laugh. "Jake? Gosh, no, but it wouldn't matter if I was." With a conspiratorial smile, she leaned toward Dylan and whispered, "I don't like to gossip but…" She paused dramatically. "…Jake only dates cheerleaders."

Enjoying the unaffected repartee, Dylan leaned toward her, his voice imitating her tone as he softly responded, "Maybe he's tired of cheerleaders…"

Chewing on her bottom lip, Trixie's eyes darted around the crowd. When she looked back at Dylan, her eyes were dancing with laughter, "That must be why the entire color guard team is here."

"You think?"

"Oh, yeah."

Dylan smiled at her. "Well, another mystery solved by Trixie Belden, Girl Detective."

Instinctively, she stiffened. Trixie was used to the jokes and snide comments but Dylan's remark caught off guard. With newly-acquired deliberateness, she took a couple slow breaths, calming the defensiveness and hurt, and assumed a neutral expression.

Unfortunately, the young man was watching her intently and had seen the flicker of emotion cross her face before she was able to hide it. "What did I say? You went stiff on me."

Trixie didn't know why she answered him. Afterward, she wondered if it was because the incident with Jim made her feel isolated from her brothers and her friends, because she felt like she didn't have anyone to confide in, anyone to turn to anymore…

"I know everyone makes fun of me."

Dylan laughed at her and she stiffened again. Trixie knew that she sounded pathetic and turned away from him with a toss of her head. Naively, she wondered if the rum in the fruit punch she had sipped had fried her brain. She needed to get away from this guy and all of these people.

"Trixie," he said her name softly. When she continued to move away from him, he reached out and grabbed her arm. Trixie stumbled and Dylan automatically reached out and caught her. For a moment, he held her against him, her back cradled against the front of his lean frame. With a soft laugh, he acknowledged, "You are deadly in those shoes."

He let her pull away from him but took her arm and spun her around to face him. "Are you okay?"

Red-faced, she nodded, "Better than I would have been if I'd went sprawling across the floor. Everyone would have loved that."

Smoothing the skirt of her dress, she smiled grimly and began, "Dylan, it was nice…"

"They're not making fun of you," he said and then paused. Then, with a shrug, he backtracked, "Well, maybe some of them are. However, most of the kids I've talked to seem to think you're…uh…interesting."

"Interesting, huh?" she said, her eyes skeptical. "That's not that word they used, is it?"

"No," Dylan admitted honestly and then hesitated before he continued. "Some of the guys think you're scary but Tad thinks you're pretty cool."

Trixie's tense expression eased. "Tad's okay. He just got involved with some bad people."

"He likes you."

"It took a while but we've become friends."

"Is what Tad and the others said true?"

"That I'm a nosy busybody?"

"I'm serious, Trixie," he chided not realizing that she was serious, too. "Have you really helped capture drug runners?"

"A couple."

"Jewel thieves?"

Shrugging a shoulder, Trixie replied, "Maybe a few."

"Blackmailers?"

"One or two."

Shaking his head in disbelief, he stared at Trixie with admiration. Then, a slow grin formed on his lips and he asked, "Lions and tigers and bears?"

Once again, he managed to surprise her. The line from _The Wizard of Oz _made Trixie smile as she realized that he wasn't being snide or trying to make her feel bad. Relaxing, her blues eyes widened with mock gravity and she responded solemnly, "Well, it wasn't exactly a lion or a tiger…"

"Just some kind of wild cat?"

"Uh huh."

"No bears?"

"No bears," she replied, her voice grave.

Dylan leaned toward her and whispered, "We could go look for one." Her eyes danced in amusement as she shook her head.

For a moment, the two young people stared at each other. Then they looked away. Silently, they gazed at the dancing, socializing teenagers around them. After a few silent moments, Dylan turned and moved closer to Trixie. Warily, she glanced over at him.

"What?" she asked, her tone a bit defensive.

His hazel eyes were appraising. As Trixie stared into them, she realized that the color of his eyes was similar to the color of Honey's. However, his gaze was enigmatic where Honey's was open and honest. Usually. Recently, her best friend's eyes seemed shuttered a lot. Sighing, Trixie wondered if anything would ever be the same.

"Seriously, Trixie, why don't we get out of here? We could go someplace where we could be alone."

Trixie made a sound of disbelief that was a cross between a laugh and a snort. "Excuse me?"

"Let's go somewhere where we can get to know each other," the young man told her. His eyes were warm and earnest as he reached out and caressed her forearm. His fingers gently ran over her skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.

"No," she answered firmly.

"Why not?"

"First, I don't know you so I'm not going anywhere with you—especially alone with you. Second, my parents are supposed to pick me up around one. I'm already in trouble over my grades. I can't imagine what kind of trouble that I'd be in if I left with a strange—yes, you're definitely strange—boy. Finally, I'm not interested in you."

For a moment, he stared at her, his expression calculating. Then, his expression eased into a smile.

"You're the consummate good girl, aren't you?"

Trixie laughed shortly without amusement. "I've been in my share of trouble."

"Yeah, maybe," Dylan said. "But you've never been in trouble like Tad or your friend, Mangan. He was in a gang, wasn't he?"

Trixie's reaction was instantaneous. She stood up straight and closed the distance between her and the young man. "Don't you dare judge Dan!" She poked him in the chest with her forefinger. "You don't know anything about him or what he went through when…"

Dylan grabbed her hand and cut her off. "I wasn't judging Mangan. I was judging you. Be honest, Curls. The only trouble you've ever been in was when you didn't clean your room or when Mommy and Daddy weren't happy with your grades." His tone was taunting.

"That's not true!" Trixie snapped, pulling her hand out of his. "I'm always getting in trouble when I'm investigating…"

"Crimes? Mysteries?" Dylan said. He was silent for a moment as he stared at her. "You know that makes sense."

Trixie looked at him. The rational voice inside of her head told her to walk away but something stopped her.

His eyes were cool as he continued, "Yeah, the only time you get in trouble is when you're solving crimes and mysteries—helping people, saving the world from the bad guys. You're right, Trixie." His voice was mocking. "You are a bad girl."

Trixie gritted her teeth. _What a jerk, _she thought, spun around and started to walk away.

"You like the adventure and the thrill of danger, don't you? That's what all the mysteries are about, isn't it?"

She looked over her shoulder at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure I do. When you're investigating crime, you can be yourself. You don't have to follow anyone's rules—do you?—because if you're trying to help someone, it's okay to use any means to do it."

She froze. His words struck a chord. They stung but there was some truth to them. Slowly, she turned to face him. Her troubled eyes met his.

"When you let yourself be you—the real you, the people around you aren't happy, are they? They worry about you and the trouble you get into. They don't understand that you thrive on it, that it makes you feel alive."

She swallowed convulsively. He was right. She was an investigator, a detective at heart. She reveled in it—identifying suspects, piecing together evidence, solving mysteries. It made her feel alive. The danger thrilled and invigorated her. The only time she felt bad about it was when Honey was terrified by their adventures, when others made her feel guilty about putting herself and Honey in harm's way. She could hear their recriminations in her head. _'Why do you have to be so reckless?' 'Don't you ever think, Trixie?' _and _'You could have gotten Honey killed!' _

With an uneasy sigh, Trixie thought about Madeleine Wheeler. She wondered if Mrs. Wheeler knew how much she craved excitement, if that was why she had persuaded Jim to date another girl. She recalled how upset the Wheelers got whenever she and Honey talked about opening their own detective agency. She saw the fear in Moms' eyes and the tightness around her father's mouth whenever she was involved in a mystery. She heard the reproach in Jim's and Bryan's voiced as they rebuked her for what they called her irresponsible and thoughtless behavior.

"Do they give you a hard time? Do they tell you how you need to be more careful, how you shouldn't be so reckless?"

He moved closer and she could feel his breath on her hair as he continued.

"Of course, you can't. No matter how hard you try. You can't change but you try and you fail. You can't measure to everyone's expectations—make everyone happy. It drags you down, doesn't it?"

Without realizing it, she nodded.

"Why can't they accept you for who you are? Why do you have to hide that side of yourself—the side that craves danger and excitement?"

Dylan's tone changed. It softened and became persuasive. "Maybe it's time, Trixie. It's time for a new beginning—time to give in and embrace the reckless, danger-seeking part of your spirit."

She felt mesmerized, seduced by his words—by the idea of being able to do what she wanted without worrying about what the other Bob-Whites would say, about how upset her parents would be and what the Wheelers and the Lynches would think.

Trixie chewed on her bottom lip, trying to gather her thoughts. When Dylan took her hand and pulled her toward a dark corner of the recreation room, she didn't resist. As they reached it, he spun her around and placed himself between her and the other teenagers in the room.

He was close when he whispered the words again. "It's time, Trixie. Give in and let the real Trixie out."

"No," she denied, her voice was breathy and unconvincing. "No, you're wrong. It's not like that."

"It is," he insisted. "Come on, Curls. Admit it. They can't accept who you are. They want you to be someone else. Aren't you tired of worrying about what they'll think? Aren't you sick of trying to make them happy?"

Trixie wet her lips as his words struck home. Dylan was right. Sometimes she resented her friends and her family. It seemed like no matter how hard she tried she disappointed everyone around her. Somewhere deep inside, Trixie was afraid that her family and friends wished that she was different. She closed her eyes as memories battered her.

"_Don't you ever think, Trixie?" Jim yelled, shaking her, as Brian carefully checked Honey for injuries._

"_Are you trying to get you and Honey killed?" her oldest brother asked disdainfully._

"_Please be careful, baby," Moms pleaded, her blue eyes filled with worry._

Suddenly, a loud cheer went up distracting her from her painful musings. Trixie glanced past Dylan at the partying teenagers who were watching the television. According to the announcer, the New Year would arrive in less than one minute.

"You can be yourself with me, Trixie. I won't judge you or give you a hard time," Dylan promised.

Trixie looked back at him. His eyes sparkled in the light.

"You can let go with me. Be whoever you want to be."

She wet her lips. It was so tempting.

Another cry went up. The rest of the young people shouted in unison, "TEN!"

The countdown had started. On the television screen, the ball began its descent. Strobe lights began to flash, transforming Trixie's view of the young man into a series of still pictures.

"NINE!"

Trixie saw him smile. His teeth were white and straight.

"EIGHT!"

Dylan's eyes were hazel, flecked with gold and green. They were focused intently on hers.

"SEVEN!"

Her eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to her, invading her space again. He smelled clean, fresh. Like soap. Not some overpowering cologne.

"SIX!"

He leaned in, his upper body pinning Trixie against the wall of the recreation room.

"FIVE!"

His breath brushed her face. It smelled sweet like homemade fruit punch.

"FOUR!"

She closed her eyes.

"THREE!"

His lips brushed hers.

"TWO!"

They were soft and the kiss was...nice.

"ONE!"

Then, it was over. Bewildered, she stared into his eyes and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

"It's time, Curls." He smiled slowly as he continued softly, "Time for new beginnings."

Dylan took her shoulders in his hands. Gently, he eased her away from the wall. Her eyes widened in surprised. He was going to kiss her again. She didn't pull away but a soft, breathy sound escaped her mouth before his closed over hers. Her eyes drifted shut.

It started out like the one before. At first, it was soft and sweet and undemanding but then it changed. His tongue swept inside her mouth, tasting her with an urgent heat and intensity. The kiss overpowered and overwhelmed Trixie, sending fire dancing along her nerves. Strange, new feelings washed over her in waves as the kiss deepened.

Then, it was over. Still holding her close, Dylan looked down at her, his expression grave.

"Happy New Year, Trixie Belden," he whispered, his warm breath caressing her cheek. The strobes lights flashed and he was gone, lost in the crowd of celebrating teenagers.


	14. Chapter 14: The Figure

**Author's Note: **Once again, thank you for your patience and for all of your support and concern. The headaches are becoming less frequent and I feel much better. Hopefully, by next week, I'll be back on schedule with my life and the story. I hope you like this chapter but I have to warn you that I did not use a beta and I was not as compulsive about proofreading as I should have been. Enjoy!

**Chapter Fourteen: The Figure**

The party reached its climax as teenagers embraced joyously in the moments following the dawning of the New Year. The flashing strobe lights stripped away inhibitions and increased the party-goers boisterous enthusiasm. Enemies temporarily set aside their differences and acquaintances bonded in the frenetic chaos.

Suddenly, Jane was at Trixie's side. She laughed and pulled Trixie into the mass of young celebrants. Briefly, she hugged her blonde friend, wished her a Happy New Year and then pushed her toward Tad Webster. Trixie was surprised when the young man kissed her soundly on the lips. With a big smile, he hugged her excitedly before whirling away to embrace another girl.

Still stunned by her encounter with Dylan McLauter, Trixie found herself being passed from one teenager to another—Ian Douglas, Joe Taylor, Patty Morris, Jake Ryan, Sherrie Hartley, and then, Tad Webster again. In the pandemonium, Trixie was sure that she had been embraced by everyone in the room.

When the chaos died down and someone turned the music back up, Trixie found herself standing with Jake Ryan. As the strobe lights went off and the disco ball began to spin, he whispered, "Happy New Year." Then he leaned down and kissed gently her on the lips. With a smile, he pulled her toward the center of the room where some of the other kids were swaying to a slow song.

"Jake, I can't dance in these…" she began.

The young man shook his head at her. "The host gets to dance with all of the pretty girls. Besides, it's a slow dance. I'll take the chance."

Trixie raised a blonde brow doubtfully as she warned, "It's your toes."

"Come on," the handsome young man laughed as he led her toward the dancers. "Losing a toe won't kill me."

Feeling strangely abashed, she let him pull her into his arms. It had been a confusing evening and Trixie felt overwhelmed by the muddled thoughts churning in her head. With a sigh, she relaxed against the young man. Mindlessly, she rested her head on his shoulder and followed his lead.

Jake was a good dancer and swaying to the soft music with him wasn't bad. In fact, it was nice. Gently, he held her body close to his as they circled the floor. Like Dylan, he smelled nice. However, where Dylan had a clean, soapy smell, there was just a hint of cologne clinging to Jake's body.

_Gleeps! _Trixie thought incredulously. _Am I going to get all boy-crazy just because some guy kissed me?_

Resolutely, Trixie pushed the thought away. She would try to sort out the evening's events later. Right now, she needed to relax and regain her equilibrium.

When the slow song faded away, a peppy dance tune followed it. Trixie pulled away from Jake. With a smile, she looked up at him. He was staring at her with a strange-yet-earnest expression on his face, his dark brown eyes focused intently on hers.

"Trixie…" he started. However, Ashley Hemingway, one of the girls on the color guard team, grabbed his arm and cut him off.

"I'm next, Jake," the other girl told him insistently, tugging him away from Trixie.

He opened his mouth but Trixie held up her hand. "Go ahead, Jake." She smiled gamely and reminded him of his earlier words, "The host has to dance with all of the pretty girls."

Jake forced a grin, nodded and took the other girl's arm. "Let's go, Ash," he said, his tone slightly brusque. With a look over his shoulder, he asked Trixie, "Will you let me know before you leave?"

The blonde nodded before she turned and made toward the stairs. Agilely, she climbed them. When she reached the top, Trixie heard her telephone ring. It was the tone she had assigned to her mother.

She pulled the phone out of her clutch.

"Hey, Moms," she answered.

"Hi, sweetheart," Moms replied. "Are you having a good time?"

Trixie smiled when she heard the anxious undertone in her mother's voice. Using her most pathetic voice, she began, "Well..."

"Trixie…" her mother said warningly.

"You know me too well, Moms. I'm fine and I've had an..." she paused and tilted her head to one side consideringly. "…an interesting time."

Trixie heard her mother sigh.

"Your father is ready to leave," Helen told her daughter. "We're going to say our goodbyes and come and get you. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

"I'll be waiting with baited breath," Trixie responded impishly, using one of Mart's expressions. She could almost see her mother shaking her head in amused frustration at her disdain for socializing. Biting her lip to keep from laughing, she told her mother goodbye and pushed the off button.

"An interesting time, huh?" a voice asked over her shoulder. "Jake thought this party was going to go down as the party of the year."

Trixie spun around and met Mr. Ryan's eyes.

_He's handsome for an older man_, Trixie thought. _I bet Jake will look just like him in twenty or so years._

"Hi, Mr. Ryan," Trixie greeted her classmate's father. "It's not the party. It's me. I'm not good at socializing and stuff like this."

The man studied her with amusement lurking in his eyes. "It's the host's job to make sure everyone has a good time."

"Your son is a great host. He was even brave enough to dance with me," Trixie smiled as she defended Jake. "Besides I don't think I was on the original invitation list. If my mom and I hadn't seen your wife and Jake at the supermarket, Jake wouldn't have felt obligated to invite me."

Mr. Ryan laughed. "Believe me, my dear, the day that my son feels obligated to invite a pretty girl to a party will never come."

"He's right, Trixie," Mrs. Ryan agreed as she joined them. "As far as Jake is concerned, the more, the merrier—especially when it comes to pretty girls."

Both the Ryans were distracted as several teenagers came up the stairs, obviously ready to leave. Before Mrs. Ryan was sidetracked by the other kids, Trixie quickly asked where the bathroom was. She followed the woman's directions, walking across the living room to a short hallway. When she found the bathroom, she turned on the light and closed the door. After she used the facilities, she washed and dried her hands and then stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Her cheeks were rosy and she had managed to chew off the lip stain her mother had painstakingly put on her before they left Crabapple Farm. Trixie ran her fingers through her riotous curls, fluffing her hair. Then, she took out some lip balm and ran it over her lips. To her overly critical eyes, she looked the same—plain, old Trixie Belden. With a deep sigh, she shrugged her shoulders helplessly and left the bathroom.

She went back downstairs in search of Jake. When she finally found him, he was in a corner, wrapped in an embrace with Ashley Hemingway.

"Uh…Jake," she said hesitantly, interrupting the kissing couple. "I don't want to…"

At her voice, the young man pulled away from the other girl and turned toward Trixie. "Uh…Trixie…uh…" Ashley moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"I hate to interrupt but I wanted to thank you for inviting me to the party and tell you that I had a…a good time."

Jake shook his head as if he was trying to clear his thoughts. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, my parents should be here in a few minutes," she told him. With a smile, she looked over his shoulder at the other girl. "Happy New Year, Ashley. Thanks again, Jake."

With those simple words, she turned and made her way back toward the steps.

* * *

Dylan had managed to avoid the embracing teenagers by staying close to the recreation room wall. He quickly escaped the party-goers, climbed the steps and adeptly avoided Jake's parents in the foyer. Easing out the front door, he shut it behind him and started toward his grandfather's car. Out of habit, he pulled the keys out of his pocket, slid the key ring over his finger and flipped the keys over and over in his hand. Hunching his shoulders against the biting cold, he picked up his pace. He was freezing and the car was parked on the street about three blocks down the road from Jake's house.

Quickly traversing the distance, he put the key in the door and turned it. After he opened the door, he paused thoughtfully. One of the guys had spiked the punch and he had had several cups before his encounter with Trixie Belden. Although he wanted to make his parents' lives miserable or—at the very least—inconvenience them, his plans did not include ruining his own life. While getting busted for drunk driving would cause his parents some grief, he would be the one who would suffer the most. Sighing, he locked the door and shut it. Sliding the ring back on his finger, he started walking toward his grandparents' home.

He turned the corner and left the street Jake lived on. The sleepy little town seemed deserted, leaving Dylan alone with his thoughts. He kept his head down against the cold and replayed the night's events in his mind. The evening had been interesting…or at least meeting Trixie Belden had been interesting. When he had first seen her, he had sensed that she was different from other girls. He had been right. She was unlike any of the other girls he had met in Sleepyside. In fact, she was unlike any of the girls he had known in California.

One side of Dylan's mouth turned up in a smile as he thought, _Trixie Belden might be…_

His thoughts trailed off as he heard footsteps coming toward him. He looked up and an ominous shiver went down his spine. From what Dylan could see, the approaching figure wore all black—a long, wool coat over black slacks and shoes. The collar of the coat was turned up and a black scarf was wrapped around the man's neck. His hair covered by a midnight-colored toboggan which was pulled down low. Like Dylan, the stranger kept his head down. As they passed, they nodded at each other, not making eye contact.

Dylan didn't look over his shoulder but he listened carefully after the man passed him. In the silence of the frigid night, the young man heard the stranger's footsteps receding into the darkness. The figure had seemed eerie, reminding him of the soulless killers from the horror movies that were all the rage among his friends.

_All the guy needs is a large hook, _Dylan thought, chuckling out loud to mask the unease he felt deep within his chest.

He took a calming breath and looked over his shoulder. The man had disappeared into the shadows. Somewhat unnerved, Dylan walked faster.

* * *

Trixie thanked the Ryans for their hospitality and slipped out the front door with a bunch of other kids. Unlike the other teenagers in the departing group, she stopped on the front porch and searched the street for her parents. She made a face when she realized that they weren't waiting for her.

"Hey, Trixie," Ian Douglas called to get her attention. He stood by a candy-apple red 1980 Chevrolet Camaro. "Do you need a ride?"

Teeth chattering, she called back, "No, Ian. My parents are coming to pick me up."

The young man closed his car door and jogged back up the walkway. "Want some company?"

"No, it's too cold. Go on. There's no sense in both of us freezing," she told the young man as he bounded onto the porch.

"It is cold tonight," he agreed before he asked, "So where are the rest of your friends? It's kind of odd to see Trixie Belden without the rest of the Bob-Whites."

Trixie made a face. "We're not that bad." At Ian's raised eyebrow, she asked, "Are we that bad?"

"Pretty much."

Ian smiled as he watched Trixie's blue eyes widen in horror. It was moments like these when he understood why his best friend had the hots for the teenage detective.

"Gleeps!"

Laughing at her distressed expression, Ian said, "It's not like you guys are one of those bad cliques…"

Trixie cut him off. If possible, her eyes became even larger as she repeated his words in a distressed tone. "A clique? We're a clique?"

"Oh, God, forget I said anything," Ian told her, wondering how to get out of the conversation he had started. "Please."

"Don't say God. Say gosh," she chastised Ian, treating him like she would Mart, Dan or Bobby. "Do you think we're…snobs?"

"No," he reassured her. "You're all really good friends and it's hard to get to know you because you are all so tight. It's like you don't need any more friends or..."

"Or...?" Trixie prompted slyly. When Ian didn't say anything, she continued. "Like Honey doesn't need a boyfriend?"

Ian threw his head back and stared at the stars. Sighing, he looked back at Trixie and asked, "Am I that obvious?"

Trixie giggled. "A little."

Groaning, Ian ran his fingers through his hair. "If you know I have a crush on Honey, everyone in school must know."

"If I know…" Trixie repeated. A little put out, she asked huffily, "What does that mean?"

"Trixie, if there was a yearbook award for 'The Girl Who is the Most Clueless about Guys,' you'd win by a landslide."

"Hey!"

"It's true," Ian stated honestly. Before Trixie could get mad at him, he looked at her with a woebegone expression. "You're not going to tell her, are you?"

Trixie stared at the young man in sympathy and then slowly shook her head. "No, I'm not going to tell her." She hesitated but then continued, "But you should, Ian."

"That's what Tad says," Ian said.

"Maybe you should listen to your best friend."

"Maybe," the young man agreed. Shivering, he looked at his watch, "Why don't you call your parents and tell them I'm going to give you a ride home?"

Shaking her head, Trixie told him, "They should be here any minute. Go on, Ian. I'll be fine. Besides if you catch a cold waiting with me, the basketball team will never forgive me."

He snorted in amusement and glanced around. There were still a few couples lingering by the cars parked in front of the Ryans' house. Looking back at her, he nodded. "Okay but promise you'll go back inside if they don't come soon…"

"Promise," she agreed.

With a jaunty salute, Ian turned, bounded down the steps and raced toward his car. Trixie smiled as he got in the Camaro and drove off. Several minutes later, all of the lingering teenagers had left, leaving Trixie alone on the steps.

It was a cold, blustery night. The wind had picked up and it was brisk and biting. For a moment, she considered going back into the Ryans' house. The party was still going on inside but Trixie didn't feel like rejoining the festivities.

Lost in thought, Trixie aimlessly stepped off the porch and wandered down the walkway. She looked down at her phone. There were text messages from Honey and Di. Pushing the button, she read Honey's message first.

"Another great year for the Bob-Whites. Wish you were here. Happy New Year."

Scrolling down, she looked at Di's text.

"Dan and I say hi and happy new year. Mart says salu-somethings that I can't spell. "

Trixie smiled at her friends' messages. It was nice to know that Honey and Di had remembered her while they were having fun in Times Square. Slowly, she texted best wishes to the two girls. Even with gloves encasing her hands, Trixie felt like her fingers were frozen. As she finished, the wind made a weird whistling sound. Suddenly, Trixie felt uneasy. There was something in the air—something ominous and threatening. She glanced around nervously.

_Where are Dad and Moms? _She wondered anxiously, looking at her watch_. It's been over fifteen minute_s.

As if it planned, her phone chimed, informing her that she had a new message. Looking at the screen, she saw that it was from her mother.

"We were stopped by Mr. Ellington as we were sneaking out. Be there in five minutes."

Trixie's breath puffed out in a little cloud. Deciding that it was too cold to stay outside, she started toward the Ryans' front door. As she walked up the pathway, Trixie heard a strange sound behind her. Spinning, she searched the darkness around her. The street lamps gave off some light but inky shadows surrounded the trees, bushes and neighboring houses. Disgusted with herself, she shook her head at her jitteriness and turned back toward the house.

"Trixie…"

_It must be the wind_, she thought but then the wind gusted again and it didn't sound like a whisper.

A familiar shiver ran down Trixie's back. Frozen in her tracks, she looked over her shoulder. There was a shape looming in the darkness across the street. The dark silhouette seemed to be staring at her. Whatever or whoever it was looked like it was dressed in black. She closed her eyes and shook her head. When she reopened her eyes, the figure was gone.

_Where did it go? _Instinctively, Trixie turned and took a step toward the street. She wondered, _Was it a figment of my imagination?_

With determination, she went down the pathway toward the street, her eyes searching the darkness for the strange figure. As she reached the edge of sidewalk, she heard the whisper again. The voice was deep, low and gruff.

"Trixie…"

_That is not the wind. _

She stepped down off the sidewalk. The silhouette did not reappear but she could feel its presence and hear its throaty whisper, calling her name from the inky shadows across the street.

The need to know what it was consumed Trixie and adrenaline raced through her body. She had to know what it wanted—why it kept calling her name-but as she started to cross the street, she heard another voice.

_"Trix, one of the most important things I've learned since working with Jackson is that you always need back-up. You never go into a dangerous situation by yourself."_

She stopped. Scott Calder's voice was real and clear, almost like he was standing beside her. Suddenly, the intense need for knowledge faded and something Trixie had never felt before rushed through her.

She didn't turn around but she backed up slowly—onto the sidewalk and up the walkway to the _Ryans'_ porch, her eyes carefully searching for the danger that had her instincts on high alert. When she reached the steps, she whirled, raced up them and across the front porch to the door. She didn't knock. She just threw open the door and ran inside, the strange new need for self-preservation fueling her every step.


	15. Chapter 15: The Rest of the Story

**Chapter Fifteen: The Rest of the Story**

It was the second day of the New Year. Since the rest of the Bob-Whites were still in New York, Trixie decided to go to work. Although she knew that she wouldn't get paid, she'd rather work at the police station than sit at home and listen to Bobby's weird conspiracy theories.

She closed the file she had just reviewed and placed it in a storage box. After she put the lid on the box, she placed it with the other boxes that were ready to be moved to the new county facility. When the door to the archives room opened, Trixie looked over her shoulder. Scott Calder and Canaan Davis stood in the doorway, one holding two pizza boxes and the other carrying a six pack of strawberry pop and a grocery bag.

"Mmmm," Trixie said as a delicious aroma wafted around her. "That smells good."

"One meat supreme and one special with pepperoni, mushrooms and extra cheese," Scott said, sitting the pizzas down on the round table in the corner of the room.

Canaan followed Scott and put down the sodas and the grocery sack. Opening the bag, he pulled out a pack of napkins and paper plates. "Sodas, paper plates and napkins," he said. Then, with a flourish, he removed the final item from the bag. "And for dessert, a staple of the police officer diet—Twinkies."

Trixie and Scott laughed. The three friends sat down at the table and dug into the food. When they were settled, Trixie looked at the two men.

"So…" she began. "How was your New Year's Eve?"

Scott made a sound that was part laugh, part groan. "Most of the older guys wanted off for the holidays so I went on December 27 and got off yesterday. It was slow but I guess that was good. Fires around Christmas are pretty awful. Of course, by New Year's Eve, I was dying for some action but it was a slow night. We responded to a couple of wrecks and a grease fire at the Bar and Grill off the Interstate."

Canaan snorted. "I wish I'd been at the firehouse. My shift was a nightmare. I arrested two drunk drivers, one of which swore he was a personal friend of the mayor and told me he intended to have my job. I also picked up two PIs—one urinated in my cruiser and the other threw up on me. After I got me and my car cleaned up, I was called to break up a bar fight down at the Sleepyside Inn where some crazy biker chick attacked me. I hate New Year's Eve—absolutely detest it."

Scott stifled a grin and looked at Trixie. "How was your New Year's Eve?"

"You're grounded, aren't you?" Canaan asked. Shaking his head sympathetically, he said facetiously, "You must have had blast watching Dick Clark with your parents."

"I wish."

Canaan tilted his head to one side and asked, "You wish? What does that mean?"

"My mom made me go to Jake Ryan's party," Trixie said pathetically.

The two men looked at each other and burst out laughing. Their amusement earned them nasty looks from their young friend. With a sniff, she picked up her pizza and took a huge bite.

"Sorry, Trix," Scott said but he didn't sound the least bit apologetic. "Did you just say your mom made you go to a party?"

With narrowed eyes, Trixie slowly chewed and swallowed the pizza. Then she picked up the strawberry pop and took a drink.

"I hate parties. I suck at them. At the last minute, one of the bank trustees decided to have a small get-together. My parents were invited. Since Brian and Mart were in the City and Bobby was at the Lynches' house, I would have been alone at the house and Moms didn't want me to spend New Year's Eve by myself."

"Well, at least you didn't watch your kid brother."

"Gleeps! That might have been worse than the party! Bobby has become a real conspiracy theory freak. Aliens, clones, monsters, government mind-control. I swear the kid has an incredible imagination," Trixie said.

"I wonder where he gets it from," Canaan replied, eyeing her with a grin.

Trixie sent him an annoyed look before she continued, "Anyway, I whined and begged but Moms made me go." She took another bite of pizza. After she swallowed, she continued, "She said to consider it part of my punishment."

Canaan snorted. "My parents never ordered me to go to a party when I got in trouble."

"Jake Ryan?" Scott asked, ignoring the other officer's comment. "Isn't he the guy on the football team that Tad says only dates cheerleaders?"

All of the guys at the station knew Spider Webster's younger brother, Tad. The high school student was not only popular because he was an exceptional basketball player but he also liked to hang out with the younger officers that his brother supervised.

"Not anymore," Trixie said, sipping her pop. At the men's inquiring look, she continued, "Jake's moved on to the color guard."

Both men chuckled and Scott shook his head ruefully before he asked, "Well, Miss Belden, did you have a good time at the party?"

Trixie averted her eyes as a bright blush bloomed on her face.

"Ooooh," Canaan laughed, leaning forward with interest. "I think she had a really good time."

Her face a brilliant red, Trixie bit her lip before she answered, "I had an interesting time."

"Come on, Trix," Scott wheedled. "I spent the evening cleaning up bloody noses and putting out grease fires. Poor Canaan got thrown up on. Give us the juicy details. Who was there and more importantly, who'd you kiss at midnight?"

"Lots of people were there—Tad and his best friend, Ian. Do you remember Jane Morris?" Both men shook their heads. "Her brother is about your age—maybe a little younger—and he used to run the school paper."

"Still can't place her," Canaan said dismissively with a wave of his hand. "I don't care who was there. I want to know who you kissed."

Trixie laughed self-consciously and managed to turn an even brighter shade of red. "I kissed everyone. Isn't that what you're supposed to do at midnight? Go around hugging and kissing the rest of the people at the party?"

Canaan nodded his head in agreement. "Sure but kissing everyone at midnight doesn't make you turn brick red when you tell your buddies about it."

"She's more magenta than brick red." Scott mused as he studied his friend's blushing face.

"Magenta?" Canaan asked incredulously, looking askance at the other young man. "What are you? A girl?" Disgusted, he looked back at Trixie. "He's pathetic. Now tell us about the guy who kissed you."

The blonde teenager sighed. She knew that neither one of the young officers would give up until she told them. "His name is Dylan MacLauter. He's a senior and he just moved here from California."

Canaan put his pizza down, wiped his hands off on his napkin and pulled his notebook and pen out of the breast pocket of his uniform. Flipping open the pad, he looked at Trixie, "Dylan—is it D-Y-L-A-N OR D-I-L-L-O-N? MacLauter? How do you spell that? Did you get his driver's license number and social?"

"Seriously?" Trixie and Scott asked at the same time and then Scott repeated the word with more emphasis. "Seriously?"

"What?" the young officer asked defensively. "I just want to check him out." When the other two continued to stare at him, he sighed and put away his notebook and pen.

The blush on Trixie's face had started to fade but it darkened at Canaan's next question.

"So was there tongue involved?"

"Gosh!" Trixie gasped at his audacious question.

"Oh, give her a break, Canaan. The girl is going to die of embarrassment."

Sighing heavily, the young woman admitted softly, "The kiss wasn't bad. In fact, it was kind of nice and it wasn't really that embarrassing. No one was paying any attention to us. It's what I did while I was waiting for my mom and dad that I'll never live down."

His brow furrowed, Canaan asked, "What did you do that was so embarrassing?"

"You have to promise not to tell any of the other officers," Trixie conditioned telling the rest of the story on the other's silence.

Canaan laughed and said, "Scout's honor."

Trixie stared at Canaan suspiciously. "Were you ever a boy scout?"

"No but I kissed a lot of girl scouts," he said slyly, wiggling his eyebrows at her. When Trixie continued to stare distrustfully at him, the handsome young man sighed dramatically. "I promise."

When Trixie looked over at Scott, he was staring at her thoughtfully. He knew how much working at the police station meant to her and remembered how upset she had been when the officers had seen her cry. The thought that the policemen had lost respect for her had really upset her. Slowly, he nodded.

"Well, after midnight, my parents called and said that they'd pick me up in about fifteen minutes…" Trixie started as the young men sat back in their chairs and ate their pizza. "So after I said goodbye to Jake, I went outside with a bunch of other kids. Ian left about the same time and we stood and talked for a few minutes. Finally, he left and after a few minutes, all of the other kids who had went outside with me went home, too. I texted Honey and Di to kill time. Then…"

She trailed off, a distant look on her face. Before she continued, she took a drink of her soda.

"It was cold and the wind picked up after midnight. Do you remember?"

Both men nodded, intent on the details of her story.

"Well, I decided to wait inside and as I was walking back up the pathway to Jake's house, I got this weird feeling and…and I thought I heard someone call my name." She paused again as she replayed the events in her mind. "At first, I thought it was the wind but I looked around and there was this guy standing across the street staring at me. He…he was creepy looking. He kind of reminded me of the killer in that movie _I Know What You Did Last Summer."_

Canaan groaned. "Someone was punking you!"

"Who was it, Trix?"

The young woman shook her head. "I don't know. I mean, I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I didn't see him but I…I felt him, you know? And I could still hear him calling my name. So I decided to walk across the street and see who it was."

Canaan groaned again. "Are you serious? That's about the dumbest thing you could have done…"

Trixie cut him off and said, "Yeah, I know. I didn't do it. I started across the street but when I got halfway there, I heard Scott's voice, warning me not to go into a dangerous situation without back-up. So I stopped, backed up and ran like a girl to the Ryans' house."

"So why will you never live it down?" Canaan asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "You are a girl."

His statement earned him a contemptuous look from Trixie.

"Come on, Trixie. What so embarrassing about being scared by a weird looking guy? You were alone outside. Anyone would have been freaked so what's the big deal?"

Trixie shrugged uncomfortably. "I just burst into the Ryans' house. I didn't knock or anything. Mr. Ryan rushed over to me. He said I was as pale as a ghost and asked me what was wrong. Like an idiot, I blurted out what happened."

"What'd he say?"

"He was like you, Canaan. He thought someone was playing a practical joke on me. It made him mad and he went outside to see who it was." Trixie exhaled slowly. "Jake and Ashley Hemingway came upstairs and Jake's mom told them what happened. Jake was really solicitous. I think that's the right word. Mart would know."

"What happened next?" Canaan asked, urging her to continue.

"Jake, Joe Taylor and a couple of the other guys went outside to see if Jake's dad had found anyone. That's when Ashley jumped me."

Canaan looked confused. "Ashley? Steve Hemingway's kid sister? What was her problem?"

"She was ticked off because she thought that I made the whole thing up to get Jake's attention," Trixie answered.

There was outrage in Trixie's voice when she continued. "I told her that I wasn't after Jake, that I really had seen someone and she laughed. She actually laughed."

"Huh?"

"She said that she knew me and knew that I wasn't afraid of anything. I don't know her. I mean, I think I went to her birthday party when we were five or six but we haven't socialized since then."

Trixie's face was a study of indignation as she continued, "I told her that if she knew me so well, she knew that Jake wasn't my type. I said that she should also know that Jake only dated cheerleader-types and asked her if I looked like I had pom-poms growing out my hands."

Scott shook his head in bewilderment and said, "I thought you said she was on the color guard squad."

"Same thing," she rolled her eyes, paused and took a drink of her strawberry pop. "Of course, Jake's mom came back into the room at that moment and heard me say the thing about the pom-poms. I could have died."

Both of the young men grinned at the familiar expression. When Trixie remained silent, Scott spoke up for the first time since she had started her story. "What happened next?"

"My mom and dad drove up while Jake's dad, Jake and the rest of the guys were looking for the man. Moms and Dad came with Mr. Ryan. Everyone figured that it must have been someone playing a prank and I was the unlucky victim."

His eyes intent on her face, Scott asked, "What do you think?"

Trixie was silent for a moment as she considered her response. "I don't know, Scott. It could have been someone punking me or it could have been my imagination." She looked over at Canaan and wrinkled her noise in annoyance. "Some people think overactive imaginations run in my family."

While Canaan laughed uproariously at her accusation, Scott forced a smile. If any other teenage girl had told him the story, he would have thought it was a prank or the girl's overactive imagination. However, this wasn't some girl. It was Trixie and he was worried.

* * *

When Chief Molinson had entered the storage room, he had planned on chewing out the three young employees. Although he knew that none of them were on the clock, he didn't want them to get used to socializing at the precinct. However, as he had stood waiting for the opportunity to reprimand them, he had become caught up in the vivid details of Trixie's story. His interest had quickly changed to concern when he heard her describe the dark figure who had called her name. Angered by her admission that she had started to cross the street to search for the stranger, he was quickly relieved when she had said that she had changed her mind.

He glanced over his shoulder at the two officers who had silently followed him into the room. He was careful not to alert the young people of their presence when he motioned for Spider Webster and Wiley Jackson to follow him. Once he was outside of the room, he headed for his office knowing that his men would follow him. When he reached his office, he crossed the room and sat behind his desk. After Spider Webster shut the door, he gestured for his subordinates to sit down in the chairs across from his desk.

"Jackson, I want you to pull…"

The grizzled veteran cut him off. "…the complaint cards from December 31 and January 1 to see if there were any other reports of prowlers or strange men in dark clothing. I'll also check with the Ryans and get their take on the incident and see if any of their neighbors noticed anything strange."

The chief nodded, not offended by the officer's interruption. "Check with the residents of Old Telegraph and Glenn Roads to see if they've seen any strangers in the area in the last few days. Be discrete."

"Yes, sir."

"Wait a minute," Spider Webster said. "I don't understand, Chief. Trixie said that it was either someone playing a prank or her imagination."

"You really think Belden's imagination sent her running into the house for safety?" Molinson asked with a raised brow.

Spider considered the Chief's question.

_Trixie is fearless_, he thought. _It would take more than a shadow to send her searching for cover. _

"It wasn't her imagination," Chief Molinson stated. "It might have been a prank but this is Trixie that were talking about. Trouble seems to find her. I don't know how many times we've almost lost her because we didn't know what was going on. She's one of us now and I am not going to let something happen to her on my watch."

The man's voice was solemn and resolute, his face set in determination. It was obvious how much he thought of the young girl.

Spider nodded and said, "I'll pull her file and see where the creeps she's put in jail are. I'll check the Department of Corrections records and get with probation and parole. They should be able to give me information on the ones who have done their time."

"Good," he replied. "I need to give…"

Suddenly, there was a crackle from the intercom on his phone. A familiar voice came out of the speaker. It was Sarah from dispatch. "Chief, Peter Belden is on line two for you. Do you want to take the call or do you want me to take a message?"

Molinson smiled grimly. Obviously, he wasn't the only one who was worried about Trixie's encounter with the dark stranger. Before he answered the call, he looked at Jackson and Webster, "Keep me informed."

Both men nodded and rose. When they had shut the door behind them, the Chief picked up the telephone.

"Hello, Pete. I was just getting ready to call you…"


	16. Chapter 16: Back to School

**Author's Note:** The fates and my computer are conspiring against me. I'm sorry this chapter is so late! I hope you enjoy it!

**Chapter Sixteen: Back to School**

Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School's cafeteria was full of laughing, talking teenagers. It was the first day back from winter break and although the upper classmen were sad to see their vacation end, they were happy to be back with their friends.

Trixie Belden carried her lunch tray through the crowded room. When she glanced across the cafeteria, she saw the rest of the Bob-Whites sitting at their usual table. As usual, Mart and Diana were seated side-by-side across the table from Honey and Dan.

As she made her way across the cafeteria, someone said in a loud, snide voice, "Hey, Belden, have you seen any spooky dark figures lately?"

"Yeah, Trixie, I heard Jason's looking for you," another voice called out. Uproarious laughter followed the comments.

Rolling her eyes in disgust, Trixie ignored her tormentors and proceeded across the room. With a clatter, she sat her lunch down beside Honey.

As she collapsed onto the stool beside her best friend, the brunette looked at her, absently pushing the casserole around on her plate. Her face inquisitive, Honey asked Trixie, "What was that about?"

"Who knows?" Trixie said vaguely, not wanting to go into the embarrassing incident when so many other kids could overhear.

"How was math?"

Thankful that Honey had moved on to another subject, Trixie rolled her blue eyes. "Mr. Marston stopped me after class and told me that he was very excited that Mr. Crandall is tutoring me." She lowered her voice, drew her eyebrows together in a serious look and mimicked her teacher, "I expect good things from you in the future, Miss Belden." Her voice back to normal, she continued, "I started to tell him that it wasn't a good idea to use my name, math and good in the same sentence. The poor man is doomed to disappointment."

When Dan and Honey laughed at her imitation of Mr. Marston and her assessment of the situation, Trixie smiled impishly. Then, as she looked at her lunch plate, she frowned. "What is this stuff?"

"Tuna surprise," Dan answered, flashing Trixie a grin that caused the girls at the next table to sigh. He picked up an apple from his tray and took a bite of it. Then, he pulled a text book out of his backpack and flipped open. "I've got an anatomy test next period. God, I can't wait for this year to be over."

"Gosh," Honey and Trixie corrected at the same time, causing Dan to snort and shake his head as he looked down at the book.

Trixie picked up a forkful of the strange-looking tuna concoction. She sniffed it and made a face. Setting the fork down, she studied the other Bob-Whites. Dan was already engrossed in his science book, completely oblivious to the girls at the next table who were trying to get his attention. Mart and Diana still hadn't acknowledged her presence. Whispering in each others' ears and laughing softly, they only had eyes for each other.

She grimaced and looked over at Honey. Raising a sandy brow, she asked, "Are Mart and Di going to join us?"

The cooing couple continued to ignore Trixie and Honey bit her lip to keep from giggling. Shaking her head solemnly, she informed her best friend, "They were like the entire time we were in the City. So were Jim and Morgan. It was awful. If I hadn't had Brian and Dan to keep me company…"

Trixie flinched inwardly but her face remained impassive. Honey knew that she had been upset when she found out Jim was dating Morgan but Trixie had refused to discuss the depth of her feelings with her best friend. Instead, she had assured Honey that although she was upset, she wasn't devastated. Apparently, Honey had believed her lies. A part of Trixie was happy about that. Even though talking about Jim made her heart ache, it was what Trixie wanted. Mart, Dan and Diana were Jim's friends, too, and Honey was his sister. She didn't want any of them to feel uncomfortable around her or Jim and she certainly didn't want anyone to feel obligated to take sides.

With self-preservation in mind, Trixie allowed her attention to wander as Honey continued her story. Surreptitiously, she gazed around the cafeteria. Jane and Patty sat with the group of girls at the next table. When they weren't sighing and staring at Dan, they were discussing the Valentine's Day Dance. Across the room, Jake Ryan and Joe Taylor were holding court, surrounded by giggling cheerleaders but, to Trixie's surprise, none of the girls on the color guard team were in the young men's mesmerized audience. A few tables away, Ian Douglas and some other basketball players were discussing next weekend's game. Frowning, Trixie looked around and wondered where Tad was. Then, she saw him threading his way through the tables toward her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Trixie saw Honey run a hand over her hair and straighten her blouse. Sitting up straighter in her seat, her friend smiled as the basketball player reached the table. "Hi, Tad. What's up?"

Tad grinned at Honey. When the Bob-Whites had first met him, he had been a jerk who was in trouble. Since then, he had matured, both emotionally and physically. He had become a nice guy who tried to stay out of trouble and he was good looking in an average, boy-next-door way.

"Hi," Tad said, encompassing all of Bob-Whites in his greeting.

Dan glanced up from his book and muttered a response but neither Mart nor Diana acknowledged the basketball player or his greeting.

Trixie looked at the handsome boy and shrugged helplessly. "Welcome to our world."

Both Honey and Tad chuckled. Then, Tad met Trixie's eyes. "Are we on?"

"Absolutely," she replied with an enthusiastic nod that sent her curls bouncing around her pretty face.

"Cool. I'll meet you at your locker after school. See you, Honey," he said. With a wave, Tad turned and walked across the room to where his best friend sat with some of the other basketball players.

"Are you on? On for what?" Honey turned to Trixie, her eyes questioning.

When Trixie looked over at Honey, she saw that Dan was also looking at her and that she had finally managed to get Mart and Diana's attention.

"Tad and I are going to the Youth Center after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He's going to give me some pointers about strength training," Trixie informed her friends. With an elfin grin, she continued, "Do you know what this means? No more Pilates!"

Honey's answering smile didn't reach her golden eyes. Frowning, Trixie tilted her head and studied her friend. Quietly, she asked, "What's wrong?"

Noticing the looks she was getting from the others, Honey grimaced and delicately shrugged her shoulders, "I thought we were having fun working out together. You, me and Di…"

"Oh, come on, Honey" Diana giggled. "If you were Trixie and Tad offered to work out with you, you would ditch us, too."

Biting her lip, Honey returned, "I guess you're right."

Suddenly, Trixie had a great idea. "You can work out with us, too," she suggested with excitement and started to stand up. "Oh, Honey, it'll be a blast. I'll go ask Tad right now."

"No!" Honey bit out, aghast. "He didn't ask me, Trixie. He asked you."

Trixie started to argue but trailed off when Ashley Hemingway walked up and sat down on the stool next to her. Like the female Bob-Whites, Ashley was a junior. However, the four girls rarely interacted with each other. Ashley spent most of her time with the girls on the color guard squad and she was the archetypal mean girl.

"Yeah, Trixie, Tad asked you—not your little friend. He's obviously not interested in her," the interloper said nastily, sending Honey a spiteful look. When Honey paled, Ashley looked back at Trixie, "You had quite a time at Jake's party."

"Jake's party?" Diana asked, her brow knitted in confusion.

"Didn't she tell you?" Ashley responded. "Trixie went to Jake's New Year's Eve party."

"You went to a party?" Dan stared at the blonde girl in disbelief. She hated parties as much as he did.

"Yeah," Ashley answered for Trixie, batting her eyelashes at Dan. "She was pretty smooth—chatting, flirting and dancing with all of the hot guys." When the girl paused and looked at Mart, Diana moved closer to him as if to mark her territory. Ashley smirked, her eyes full of malice, but when she turned to Trixie, the malice morphed into menace. "Jake is mine. I don't care what you do with other guys but stay away from him. If you don't, I promise you will be sorry."

Ashley stood up and pulled her shirt down, drawing both Dan and Mart's eyes to her cleavage. With a seductive smile, she looked at the two young men, "Jake is hot but I'm open to other offers, boys." Running her tongue over her glossed lips, she reached out and caressed Mart's forearm. "If you want to spend some time with a real woman, give me a call." Then, tossing her hair, she spun around and sashayed away.

Diana gasped, infuriated with the girl's audacity. When she started to stand up to follow her, Mart grabbed her hand and told her to leave it alone.

Sputtering, she turned fiery violet eyes on him, "Leave it alone? Did you hear what she said?"

"Yeah," he answered, his thumb gently stroking the palm of Diana's hand. "I heard."

"You saw, too," Diana hissed. "I saw you gaping at her…her…chest."

Dan sighed and tried to defend his best friend. "Give him a break, Di. It's like a car wreck. You know you shouldn't look but you can't help it."

Narrowing her eyes, Diana turned toward Dan. She opened her mouth to retort but was cut off by Mart's low remark, "I'd rather look at you."

Trixie watched the other girl's anger melt as her brother's soft response washed over her. Mart was often obnoxious. In fact, he was real jerk sometimes but he had a way with words and more importantly, he genuinely cared about Diana. There was sudden ache in her chest but she hid the pain behind a blank expression.

"You went to Jake Ryan's party? And you were flirting?" The questions came from Dan and were echoed in her best friend's eyes. "Are you working on a case?"

"Yes, I went to Jake's party," Trixie answered Dan's first question, making a face. "At the last minute, one of the bank's board members decided to throw a party. Moms and Dad felt obligated to go and Bobby was staying over at the Lynches. Since Moms didn't want me to spend New Year's Eve alone, she made me go to the party. She said it was part of my punishment."

"Oh, Trixie, that must have been horrible," Honey commiserated, knowing how much her friend hated social events.

"It was awful," Trixie replied in a fake, piteous voice and then, continued with a laugh, "and I wasn't flirting with anyone. Come on, guys, you know that I don't flirt."

Dan's studied Trixie intently. "The only time I've ever seen you try to flirt was when there was a mystery afoot." His tone was slightly accusing when he continued, "You didn't answer my last question, Trixie Belden. Are you working on a case?"

She shook her head, her eyes sincere, "No, I'm not working on a case." When the handsome boy's eyes narrowed even more, she repeated her words, "Dan, I swear I'm not working a case."

Mart and Diana had rejoined the rest of the world and were listening to Dan and Trixie's exchange.

"But when were you invited to Jake's party? I mean, none of us were," Diana stated. Although they went to school together and were friendly in passing, none of the Bob-Whites considered Jake Ryan a close friend.

Trixie waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, it was a last minute thing. He invited a lot of people. Tad, Ian, Jane, Patty. Moms and I saw him at the grocery store buying party supplies. I'm pretty sure that he felt obligated to ask me to come. Unfortunately, I couldn't convince Moms of that."

"Is that when Tad offered to work out with you? At the party?" Honey asked, tucking a strand of her silky hair behind one ear.

"Uh huh. Jane, Patty and I were standing by the coolers. I was accusing you and Di of torturing me with Pilates and step aerobics when Jake and Tad walked up to say hi," Trixie relayed the story. As she talked, her voice grew more animated and energy seemed to build within her.

"Jake and Tad?" Mart said thoughtfully. "That's an odd couple."

"I guess," Trixie said, lifting her eyebrows and shrugging her shoulders. "Anyway, when I mentioned that I couldn't get anyone to go to the Youth Center with me, Tad offered to show me a few things. He even gave me a goal to work for."

"A goal?"

Trixie's eyes danced with mischief as she replied, "The next time Chief Molinson makes me take a self-defense class I'm going to dump Spider Webster on his butt."

* * *

Mart stared across the lunch table at his almost twin. Over the last several months, he had watched his hotheaded, overly-emotional sister disappear, replaced by a reserved, solitary girl who did her best to keep her feelings hidden from her family and friends. When he and Dan had refused to go to the Youth Center with her, there had been no emotional scene. No pouting, complaining or guilt-trips. Just quiet acceptance. It had bothered him…and it had made him furious at one of his best friends. The rational part of Mart understood that it wasn't Jim's fault. Mart couldn't blame him for not returning Trixie's feelings or for falling for someone else. However, the simple truth was that the incident had wounded his sister's spirit and she had changed. Her trusting naiveté was gone. Her face—once an expressive canvas for her ever-changing emotions—was often blank, her feelings carefully concealed. The exuberance and effervescence that used to define her had been reined in, hidden behind a façade that she was quickly perfecting.

Beside him, Diana sighed loudly, shaking him from his reverie.

"We are not done, Trixie. We want to hear it all," the violet-eyed girl said with determination. "But Honey and I have to get to Home Economics early. Mrs. Smith is going to tell us whether our designs made the fashion show."

Diana and Honey both stood, torn between their excitement over the fashion show and their desire to learn more about Jake Ryan's party.

"Nothing happened but you can interrogate me later," Trixie insisted. "Go on and find out about your designs."

As the other girls left, Mart continued to study his sister. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"What happened at Jake's party?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

Dan groaned, looking back and forth from Trixie to Mart. "I don't have time for this. I've got to get to biology so I can review my notes before my anatomy test." Standing up, Dan stretched, his long-sleeved, polo shirt pulling across shoulders that were well-defined from chopping cords of wood. Picking up his text book, he shoved it into his backpack and flung the bag over one shoulder. "This is not over, Trixie."

"Yes, it is. There's nothing to tell, Dan," she insisted before wishing him good luck on his test.

He gave her a hard glance before he picked up his tray, turned and strode away.

Mart and Trixie remained at the table. Trixie picked up the banana that she had bought with lunch and peeled it. She took a bite and chewed slowly as her brother intently watched at her. When he continued to observe her, she put the banana down.

"I can't eat if you're going to sit there and stare at me," she said with resignation. Wiping her hands on a napkin, she stood abruptly, placed her backpack on her shoulder, and took her tray to the return window. With a smile, she slid it towards the cafeteria worker and then walked toward the exit.

Trixie started when Mart slung his arm around her shoulders. "Come on, Beatrix, I'll walk you to your locker."

"Let go of me," she requested politely, her teeth clinched as she attempted to shrug his arm off.

Mart watched his sister's jaw work as she tried to control her annoyance. He waited as the volatile, emotional Trixie warred with the new calm, collected girl she had become. When she relaxed and stopped trying to evade him, Mart sighed. He missed his fiery sister. He wanted her to scream at him, to rage against his arrogance and highhandedness.

Instead, she walked with him to her locker in silence. When they stopped, they stared at her locker. Someone had taped a cut-out of Jason Voorhees on the metal door. Trixie sighed and and pulled off the photocopied picture. Crumpling it in her hand, she stuck it in her jeans pocket. Then she dialed her combination, opened the locker and started to switch her text books without a word.

Mart was confused. "Jason? What's that about?"

Shrugging, Trixie zipped her book bag. Her silence made Mart sigh deeply and stare broodingly at the girl who looked so much like him.

In the same quiet voice that he had used with Diana earlier, he said, "When am I going to get my sister back?"

His almost twin stopped what she was doing and stared at him for a moment. Then she sat her book bag down and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"When you're in a crowd or with a bunch of people, you act like the same old Trixie but when you're with me or the other Bob-Whites, you're different. More reserved. It's like your protecting yourself from us."

"Mart," Trixie began but he cut her off.

"Before Ashley interrupted us, you were happy and excited. For a moment, you were the old Trixie. Then, when she left, _Stepford _Trixie was back." He paused for a moment and wet his lips before he continued, "Sis, I know you got hurt and you don't want to feel like that again but you can't protect yourself by building walls that keep out the people who care about you."

He watched as Trixie seemed to tune him out, intently studying the contents of her locker. Frustrated, he reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Stop shutting me out, Trixie. I don't deserve to be treated this way. Neither do Honey, Di and Dan. We all care about you. None of us would ever intentionally hurt you." Talking a deep breath, he added, "Jim didn't mean to hurt you either."

"Don't you think I know that?" Trixie pulled out of his grasp and began to straighten the contents of her locker, avoiding eye contact with him. "You don't understand, Mart. That's not what this about. If I let everyone know how I feel…" She stopped again, refusing to put her fears into words.

When he looked at what had happened through her eyes, realization dawned. Mart stared at his sister as he said, "You think that we might choose between you and Jim. The way you think Brian chose."

Trixie stilled and met her brother's eyes. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to because Mart could see into her soul. He knew her better than anyone the in the world.

"You're my sister. You'll always come before Jim Frayne," Mart said. His words were a vow, a solemn promise. Then he grinned, his blue eyes dancing, "You don't need to worry about Dan either. If it hadn't been for me, he would have kicked Jim's ass."

For once, Trixie didn't chastise him for his course language. Instead, she bit her lip and tried not to smile. "Really?"

"You should have heard the things he called 'Mr. Honorable'," Mart snorted. "That boy can cuss like a sailor when he gets riled." In a whisper, he repeated some of the names Dan had called Jim and watched as his sister's blue eyes widened in a mixture of delight and horror. "Promise me that you won't hide things from us anymore. Well, except maybe Honey. We don't have to tell her that Jim is an idiot."

Trixie bit her lip, blinking to ward off threatening tears.

Mart's next words caught her off guard. "So what happened at midnight?"

She looked at him, her brow knitted in confusion. "What?"

"Midnight. At Jake's. What happened?"

Trixie shook her head and avoided his gaze. "Come on, Mart. You heard Ashley. For some crazy reason, she thinks I'm after her man. She was warning me off and trying to cause trouble at the same time."

"Maybe," Mart said. "But I still want to know what happened at Jake's party."

"Nothing," Trixie said vehemently. "Nothing at all."

Mart raised a sandy brow.

Expelling a long breath, Trixie replied, her voice sarcastic, "You heard her. I was flirting with all the guys and during the countdown, I found the hottest guy there and made out with him."

Mart studied his sister and relaxed. Trixie was many things but she wasn't a flirt and she wouldn't make out with some guy in a crowded room. In fact, he didn't think Trixie would make out with a guy—period. "Okay, if that's your story…"

Trixie smiled, "That's my story."

Her brother nodded, looking relieved. "Okay." He glanced at his watch. "I've got to get to my locker before class. I'll see you at home." With a jaunty wave, he walked off, obivously reassured by their conversation.

Feeling slightly guilty, she watched Mart lope down the hall and disappear around a corner. She shivered, her conscience reprimanding her for not telling the Bob-Whites about the man in black. Carefully, Trixie pulled out the crumpled picture of Jason. She smoothed it out and looked into the mocking eyes of the psychotic killer.

In a soft whisper, she defended herself for not telling Mart about her scary encounter, "He didn't really ask about you..."


End file.
